Hello, Ryan
by Antigone11
Summary: Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Title: Hello, Ryan Chapter: 1 Author: Antigone11 Rating: PG-13 (language and violence) Summary: Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father  
  
"Hello, Ryan."  
  
At the entrance to the living room, Ryan froze. He'd always thought that was a stupid expression, but now, with a chill sweeping instantaneously over and through his entire body, he understood. His heart, his mind, his soul, were, literally, frozen. Seth, still laughing from their playful fight over who would have to help Kirsten call for a take out dinner, kept moving into the living room.  
  
Sandy shouted, "Seth!" and started to rise from the couch.  
  
"Sit the fuck down!" Several things happened simultaneously. A strong arm shoved Sandy back onto the couch. Another one grabbed Seth and threw him down next to his father. A soft moan sounded from Kirsten as she sat in a chair nearby. And one man, tall and burly and dark, grinned at Ryan from the middle of the room.  
  
"Come on in, son."  
  
The pounding from Ryan's heart was so loud he couldn't hear what was being said. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. Three men stood in the Cohen's living room. His father and two others he never saw before. They all wore coveralls, like the guys from the carpet cleaning company. Ryan didn't remember ever seeing his father so clean shaven. The man standing next to the couch was shorter and stockier than his father and had a bright shock of red hair. And held a gun. Pointing at Sandy's head.  
  
Ryan couldn't process that, so his gaze slid slowly along the couch to where Seth sat, white faced and terrified, and for once in his life, absolutely speechless. Seth clutched his father's hand so tightly that Ryan was sure Sandy was going to end up with a bruise.  
  
Another fearful moan from his right caused Ryan's head to swing over to Kirsten. The third man had moved back to stand behind the chair Kirsten sat in. He looked enormous, completely dwarfing both Kirsten and the delicate chair. What had Kirsten called it? Louis XIV or something? Ryan couldn't stop the random thoughts from popping into his head. Anything to stop thinking about the grip that man had on Kirsten's shoulder. The tears running silently down her face. The way her eyes moved frantically between Sandy, Seth, Ryan and the man in the middle of the room.  
  
"Get in here, Ryan!" Dave Atwood snarled as his son continued to stand, motionless, in the entry. That tone pierced the fog in Ryan's brain and he jerked. Stiffly, as if he had to consciously force each muscle to move, Ryan walked into the room.  
  
"How did you find me? When did you get out? How come no one told me? How did you get in here?" The questions tumbled from Ryan almost as if he'd been possessed by Seth.  
  
"Me and the boys, we're out on a, um, work release program." Dave laughed. At Ryan's bewildered look, Dave continued, "The warden doesn't know about it yet, so don't tell him, OK? It's not actually...'official'. I just wanted to stop by. Meet your new family." Dave's voice started out sounding almost friendly. By the time he mentioned Ryan's 'new family,' his tone was low and harsh.  
  
"Yeah, and that moron at the gate just waved us though. He didn't even check to see if we were legit. Man, you guys really need a new security company." The man holding the gun on Sandy spoke in a high, reedy voice.  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Mike!" Dave snapped. Mike's red hair flipped forward as he quickly looked down, intimidated.  
  
"How did you know where I was, Dad?" Ryan repeated warily. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Your stupid bitch of a mother wrote me. Goddamn Trey gets locked up and drags you down with him, and to top it off, that slut of a woman whines to me about the whole goddamn mess! God! What a fucking bunch of losers!" Dave gazed around the Cohen's living room. "You somehow managed to land on your feet though. What did your mother say, your 'do gooder, pansy of a defense attorney' took pity on you and took you in? What did you have to do to live here, Ryan? Bat your big blue eyes at this fuck?" He gestured toward Sandy.  
  
Kirsten gasped. Sandy and Seth sent identical glares at Dave. Sandy wanted nothing more than to give into his black rage and pound Dave Atwood's face into hamburger. But the feel of Seth's vice-like grip on his hand and the look of sheer terror on his wife's face over-rode all other considerations. His family was in danger and Sandy felt utterly helpless to do anything about it.  
  
As his father's tirade continued, Ryan flushed red, then grew pale. "Shut up! Don't talk about the Cohens that way!"  
  
His father's abrupt move caught Ryan completely unawares, sending him crashing to the floor. He almost welcomed the familiar taste of blood from his split lip. It helped clear the remainder of the fog that had enveloped him. He looked up at his father. "Can't you believe that somebody just wanted to help me? You certainly never did!"  
  
Ryan knew it was a mistake the second he released the words, but somehow he couldn't help himself. When someone pushed him, he had to push back.  
  
"You goddamn punk!" Even his two accomplices looked a bit squeamish as Dave kicked Ryan repeatedly in the side. Battered by the pain, Ryan blindly reached out, clawing his fingers into the thick Oriental rug, trying to pull himself away from his father's heavy boots. One last kick and Ryan was flipped over onto his back, panting harshly, his arms wrapped tightly around his ribs.  
  
"Stop it!" Kirsten screamed. She lunged forward, breaking the grip of the man behind her, and fell to her knees next to Ryan, awkwardly trying to gather the boy up in her arms. "Please! Leave him alone!"  
  
Ryan wasn't big, but neither was Kirsten. He felt vaguely surprised when she managed to prop him up against her chest, clutching him to her as Dave took a step forward.  
  
Ryan groaned. The fog was back. He tried to straighten up, knowing that weakness to Dave Atwood was like a red flag to a bull. He also knew that under no circumstances would he let his father hurt Kirsten.  
  
Dave took another step towards Ryan and Kirsten and stopped. He realized the situation was rapidly getting out of control. Tension hung in the air like dust motes waiting to ignite. The woman's husband was about to storm off the couch, regardless of his son beside him. And the kid himself, showing more guts than Dave would have given him credit for, was also starting to stand up. Dave took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the reason he was here.  
  
"Everybody stay exactly where you are," Dave snapped. "One more move and things are going to get bloody."  
  
Sandy and Seth slowly settled back into the couch cushions. Kirsten, her momentary courage leaking away at the thought of more violence, stilled the slight rocking she'd been doing. She rested her cheek on top of Ryan's hair and prayed that her family would survive this intact.  
  
Dave cast his gaze around the room. George lurked ridiculously behind the spindly chair. Dave shook his head. Stupid idiot couldn't even keep a one hundred pound woman in a chair! Mike looked uneasy, but he was holding firm next to the couch, gun hand unwavering.  
  
The Cohens looked terrified, subdued, and angry, all at once. Ryan was staring blankly up at him from the floor. Things were back under control.  
  
"Enough of this shit!" Dave made sure he had everyone's attention. "We just want some traveling money and then we'll blow. Dawn told me all about the set up: the pool house, the maid.. You've got to keep cash here. Where is it?"  
  
Kirsten was caught off balance by the sudden change in topic. She glanced nervously at Sandy. "I've got some cash in my purse. There's probably $100 in there. Just take it."  
  
"My wallet's in my jacket. I just stopped at the ATM..that's $200."  
  
"300 bucks? Are you fucking kidding me? You think we went through all this for 300 bucks?"  
  
Ryan started to tremble as he saw his father clench and unclench his fists. As he remembered from his childhood, that was a major warning sign. Kirsten felt Ryan shudder and tried to reassure him. "Sssshhh. It's OK, Ryan." She stroked his hair.  
  
"Where's your safe?"  
  
"We don't have one. We don't keep a lot of cash in this house." Sandy sensed Dave's growing anger and spoke evenly, trying to calm him down. God help them all if Dave erupted again. Sandy felt acid bubbling in his stomach. He didn't care if he got shot, he couldn't watch Dave hurt anybody else, but he wouldn't be endangering himself if he acted, he'd be risking his family. God, what was he supposed to do?  
  
Seth was paralyzed. He couldn't even feel his hand anymore, the one that was holding onto his father. But it remained his lifeline and he wasn't going to let go. He wanted his mother too, but he was glad she was with Ryan. Ryan needed her. Ryan might not admit it, but he needed all of them. And they needed him. They were a family now. Not just a married couple with a child. Did Ryan even realize it? He'd barely interacted with his parents before Ryan came to the house. Now they played videogames together! How geeky was that? Nice, but geeky. Anyway, that was Ryan's doing. He allowed them to step back from the shallow Newport scene and see it through fresh eyes. See how superficial it really was. Normally, Seth was grateful when a dose of reality hit Newport, but today, he wanted his protective bubble back. The bubble that kept Seth as naïve as he knew he was. Ryan wasn't paralyzed. Ryan was shaking so hard it hurt Seth's bones to watch him. Seth followed Ryan's gaze to Dave Atwood's right fist. Ryan was staring at that fist, unblinking, as it opened and closed, each time a little more violently.  
  
"I know where she keeps her jewelry," Ryan blurted out. 


	2. 2

Title: Hello, Ryan Chapter: 2 Author: Antigone11 Rating: PG-13 (language and violence) Summary: Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father  
  
Without the invaluable assistance of Lisa, Julie, and Anna this chapter may never have been published.  
  
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Ryan's words hit the occupants of the room like a grenade. Kirsten jerked in surprise, releasing her hold on Ryan. He felt the loss of her touch immediately. It hurt more than his split lip, more than his ribs. He stiffened his resolve, shifting slightly away from her, needing physical space between them to continue.  
  
"I can show you," he said.  
  
Ryan stared at his father in desperation, bile rising in his throat as the silence stretched for several moments. There was no cash, surely jewelry would be good enough to diffuse his father's anger? He refused to look at any of the Cohens. He was a betrayer. He had made his choice deliberately, but he still couldn't bear to see the disappointment in their eyes. Better the Cohens hate him than suffer any more because of his father. His father. God, he hated him. Dawn at least had required alcohol before turning mean. Dave Atwood required nothing more than being awake.  
  
"You been casing the joint, Ryan?" Dave laughed.  
  
Ryan flinched, as if struck.  
  
"So, where is it?"  
  
Two weeks ago, Ryan couldn't have said for sure that Kirsten even had jewelry, let alone where she kept it. Thinking about brooches and rings just wasn't high on his list of things to do. The Cohen's had taken him out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate his 17th birthday. Walking down the hall later that evening, Ryan spotted Kirsten in one of the guest rooms and she had beckoned him inside.  
  
"I'll show you our secret room! Hold this for me while I open the jewelry case, please." Kirsten handed Ryan the brooch she'd worn to dinner, a vibrant hummingbird encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. "This is my favorite. I only wear it on special occasions." She winked at Ryan.  
  
Kirsten opened the closet door and pushed aside some hanging dresses. A door was built into the side of the closet. "It's not an actual safe." She shrugged as she pulled a deep drawer from the built-in jewelry case. "I just wanted it out of sight. We had to hire someone to finish it. Sandy started to build it, but..you should have seen the mess!" Kirsten giggled. "You might not believe it, but Sandy's not much of a handy man!"  
  
"Huh. So he's as good at building things as you are at cooking?"  
  
"Very funny." Kirsten smiled, glad that Ryan was confident enough around her to make jokes. It had taken a long time, but it looked like Ryan was finally starting to relax. She looked down at the drawer she held.  
  
"Most of these were my mother's," Kirsten said wistfully. "I really should keep some of them in the bank, but I can't bring myself to.I don't know, lock them away." She laughed. Kirsten knew she sounded ridiculous. After all, the jewelry was cold and impersonal; her memories, however, were anything but. "Sandy's given me some pieces over the years, but the big, flashy stuff, those my mom left me. The bigger, the better! She and my dad, they pretty much started out with nothing. Dad just had a natural touch with real estate, I guess and he was successful quickly. He got a real kick out of giving my mom the most ostentatious jewelry he could find. Kind of rubbing it in the faces of the snobs here in Newport."  
  
Ryan looked at Kirsten in disbelief. "People in Newport looked down on your father? On Caleb?" He couldn't quite get his mind around that. The Caleb he knew was larger than life and pretty much dominated every situation he was in with his sheer presence.  
  
"Money talks here, Ryan. I don't condone it, but that's the way a lot of people in Newport think. Just you wait! Ryan Atwood, the world famous architect, will be sought after by every person in Orange County!" Kirsten teased.  
  
Ryan cast his patented sideways glance at Kirsten. "Seriously?"  
  
"Seriously. You're going to make it Ryan. I know you are." Kirsten was firm. "Here. Let me put that away."  
  
Ryan handed back the brooch and Kirsten carefully set in the drawer. The door clicked softly as it closed.  
  
That evening was special. He'd had a real birthday for once, with presents and a family who spent the entire day paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him. Talking with Kirsten, smiling at her memories, and hearing her confidence in his future was more than he could ever have asked for. She had faith in him. And he was about to throw it all away.  
  
Ryan swallowed and said, "It's upstairs, in a guest room closet."  
  
"What the fuck are you waitin' for? Get up!" Dave kicked Ryan's legs. "George. Take him upstairs. Make sure he don't use a phone, or set off any panic buttons. I want you both back down here in three minutes."  
  
Ryan stifled a groan as he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't straighten up properly. He hunched over slightly and kept his arms tight to his ribs. George grabbed hold of his right arm and hauled him toward the stairs. Ryan couldn't hold back a slight whimper as pain shot through his side. He stumbled after George, who gripped his upper arm firmly in a big, meaty hand.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbled, his head down, as George led him out of the living room. "It's the only way.." His voice, already soft, trailed off. There was no way he could explain. No way he could justify his actions. He only hoped that, eventually, they would forgive him for entering their lives and bringing his dark past with him.  
  
"Ryan.." Kirsten pleaded with Ryan to look at her. She knew he was in pain, knew he was terrified of his father. She didn't care about her jewelry. If she had thought of it herself, she would have gladly offered it up in exchange for her family's safety. But somehow she knew Ryan would see his action as a betrayal on his part-and she worried about the panicked thoughts she imagined were coursing through his brain.  
  
Dave watched George and Ryan make their way up the stairs, frowning as Ryan tripped halfway up. George growled something unintelligible and pulled the boy to his feet, adjusting the pace as their continued up the stairs.  
  
"How can you treat your own son like that?" Sandy demanded.  
  
Dave turned and studied Sandy for a moment before shifting his gaze to Seth and then back again. He shrugged. "I never thought he looked much like me. Dawn hooked up with a lotta guys. I was married to the bitch when he was born though, so that makes him mine. And I'll treat my son anyway I damn well please! He don't respect me, he knows what he gets."  
  
"You call that 'respect'? A combination of hatred and terror?" Sandy was outraged.  
  
"Dad.." Seth tugged at his father's hand. Seth had never been this confused in his entire life. There were armed men in his house, his dad was actually arguing with a homicidal maniac, and Ryan.. Seth didn't know what to think. He knew Ryan would never steal anything from them, but why would he tell his dad about the jewelry? He counted on Ryan being tough. Almost a real-life superhero. He didn't back down from Luke, or Donnie. He didn't even back down from Julie Cooper, and Seth thought she could probably give Dave Atwood a run for his money. That is, if she were a homicidal maniac, and not just a selfish bitch. So why now? Why, when Seth needed everyone around him to be strong enough to compensate for his own pathetic panic-stricken nervous meltdown, was Ryan showing weakness? He just couldn't think straight. And his dad arguing with Dave Atwood wasn't helping any.  
  
Dave's attention was caught by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. He eagerly turned, dismissing his conversation with Sandy. George held up a black velvet bag in one giant fist and a visibly drained Ryan in the other.  
  
George shoved Ryan back into the living room. Ryan stumbled and fell, hard, to the floor, gasping in pain as he felt something stab him from the inside. From her spot on the floor, Kirsten crept steadfastly over to him, keeping a wary eye on Dave.  
  
"Give it here," Dave ordered. He peered into the bag and pulled out a pearl necklace. He held it up admiringly. "That's what I'm talkin' about!" He looked around the room, gloating.  
  
Sandy's disgust was plain. Seth still looked terrified. Kirsten was paying no attention to him whatsoever. She knelt next to Ryan, a hand on his cheek, trying in vain to penetrate the blank haze he seemed to be caught in.  
  
Dave dropped the necklace back in the bag and stalked over to Ryan. "Get the fuck up. We're outta here."  
  
"What?" Kirsten gasped. "You've got what you want. Just leave!"  
  
"Tyin' you up or lockin' you in some room's no guarantee you're not gonna get loose and set the cops on us before we get across the border. Ryan's my guarantee. You three sit here all nice and quiet for a coupla hours and this'll all be over. Once we're free and clear, I'll let you know where you can pick him up. If you still want him." Dave grinned sardonically.  
  
"You can't take Ryan with you! He's hurt!" Kirsten looked over at Sandy. Helpless to do more than imagine clawing the grin off of Dave Atwood's face, her eyes demanded Sandy do something to end this nightmare.  
  
"Dave," Sandy said quickly, waiting for Dave to meet his gaze before continuing. "We're Ryan's legal guardians. If you take him, that's kidnapping. A federal offense. It doesn't matter if he's your son. Stealing some jewelry, that's a matter for the local police, if we even report it. But kidnapping? The FBI is going to get involved. Come on." Sandy used his most persuasive voice. "You don't need Ryan. He's hurt, he'll slow you down. We don't care about the jewelry. But know this, you take Ryan with you and we're going to come after you. Leave him. We won't go to the police."  
  
"You think I'm stupid? Of course you'll call the cops. For some reason, you give a shit about Ryan. I don't know why. I don't fucking care. We're takin' him with us. You call the cops, Ryan pays the price." Dave locked eyes with Sandy. "Your choice."  
  
By this time, Ryan had pulled himself up to his knees, using a nearby chair for leverage, refusing to let Kirsten help him. He didn't have the strength to get all the way to his feet. He couldn't find the strength even to care anymore. He was leaving with his father and knew he'd never see Kirsten, Sandy, or Seth again. 


	3. 3

Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 3

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Chapter 3

Ryan coughed softly, new blood mixing with the red already staining his split lip.

"Put him in the van," Dave barked at George.  "Mike, gimme the gun and go start the van."

Once again, George grabbed Ryan by the arm, jerked him to his feet and dragged him out of the living room.  Ryan stumbled over the potted palm next to the front door.  Watching intently as Ryan was taken from her, Kirsten thought she saw something fall from his hand and into the leaves.  Crossing the portal, he was swallowed by the darkness.

Dave hesitated at the door, the velvet bag swinging against his hip as he turned back to face the Cohens.  "I'm serious.  I see any suspicious cars following us, any roadblocks, any helicopters, and you'll never see Ryan again.  We get across the border, no problems, and I'll drop him off at a gas station or somethin'."  He waved his gun hand for emphasis.  "Got it?  Answer me!" he snapped when he got no response.

"Yes.  Yes, we 'got it'," Sandy replied slowly.  "Ryan will be released, unharmed, as soon as you cross the border into Mexico.  As long as **you** get **that**."

Dave Atwood laughed harshly.  "I got no beef with you people.  Just needed somethin' for a new start.  Once that's done, I don't need Ryan.  He'll be back in no time."  He paused, "Just...make sure he amounts to somethin', OK?"  With that surprising comment, Dave left, closing the door firmly behind him.  Muffled by the walls, the van's roaring engine and the squeal from abused tires were still clearly audible.

The Cohens sat in stunned immobility for a few minutes.

The silence was deafening.  It was almost oppressive.  Kirsten found it difficult to breathe.  She couldn't believe he was really gone.

"Ryan…,"  she whispered.

That small sound shattered the stillness.  Sandy stood up, extricating himself from Seth's tight grip.

"It's OK, Seth.  I just want to see if….if they've really gone."  He walked cautiously into the foyer and peered out the sidelight.  "The van is gone.  What are we going to do?"  He stepped back into the living room and walked over to Kirsten, still sitting on the floor.

"I don't know!"  Kirsten wailed, starting to shiver uncontrollably.

Sandy was startled by Kirsten's response.  As a rule, Kirsten was very much in control of her emotions.  She was usually the calm one in a crisis.

Kirsten continued, "We can't just do nothing!  They took Ryan away.  We have to **do** something!"

"I'm not saying we do nothing, Kirsten," Sandy said gently, "We need to talk this through.  Is it safer for Ryan if we wait, like Dave said…"

"Don't speak that name in this house!"  Kirsten snapped, surging to her feet and standing toe to toe with Sandy.

He looked at her helplessly.  "Kirsten."  He trailed off before continuing.  "I have to say his name if we're going to discuss our options."

"Options!  We're talking about Ryan's **life**, not a time share in Cabo San Lucas!"  Kirsten spat, needing to strike out at something.  Sandy just happened to be the nearest target.

"What's wrong with you guys?"  Seth had finally roused from his terror induced quietude.  "We need to develop a strategy, an action plan!"  He started to count off on his fingers, "We need to secure the house, safeguard the evidence, track the van, save Ryan, arrest the criminals…Have I missed anything?"

As worried as she was about Ryan, Kirsten smiled.  She was glad to have her Seth back.  The silent child on the couch had been almost unrecognizable.  This boy, arms gesticulating randomly as he paced the living room, was definitely Seth.

"We need to call the police."  Kirsten had made her decision.

"You're sure?"  Sandy was looking for affirmation.  "As much as I want Ryan back as soon as possible, are we putting him even more at risk?"

"Sandy, he's hurt.  It could be serious.  He was in pain!  We can't just wait, and, and  trust  that monster to keep his word!"

"Agreed.  I'll call Mickey Harrison.  He's FBI, but he doesn't have a John Wayne complex.  I've worked with him before.  We can trust him not to, well, make the situation any worse."

"We're trusting him with Ryan's life, Sandy."  Kirsten reminded him.

"As if I could forget."  Sandy held Kirsten's gaze for a few moments, needing her to trust him.  If they were going to get Ryan back safely, if they were going to make it through this ordeal as a family, they needed to have a united front.

Seth, head bouncing back and forth between his parents like a tennis spectator, was impatient.  "Dad!  Phone!  This is definitely a situation where the phrase 'time is a wasting' applies!"

After calling Mickey, Sandy wasn't sure what to do next.  It would take 15-20 minutes before Mickey arrived.  He gazed around the living room, absent mindedly reaching to pick up a magazine that had been knocked off the coffee table at some point during the evening.  Seth snorted and restrained his father's hand.

"I know you're a defense attorney, Dad, and your first instinct is to destroy evidence, but this time, we all need to be on the prosecution's side.  Don't you ever watch CSI?  The Las Vegas one, not Miami.  We need to protect every piece of evidence in this house so that when we catch those bastards, they'll be thrown into a jail so deep they'll never see the sun again.  That's what they deserve for what they did….to Ryan, to us…to…"  Seth stopped his frantic litany.  

"Seth!"  Sandy was shocked.  "I would never destroy evidence!  Kick it under the couch, maybe…"

"Sandy," Kirsten warned.  "This is no time for jokes."

"I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere a little," Sandy muttered.

"Seth, come here."  She motioned to her son, holding out her arm and putting it around his shoulders.  "He's going to be OK.  The police will find him and he's going to be just fine.  We all are."

"The fortress has been breached, Mom.  How can we ever feel secure here again?  How about Rottweilers?  I always wanted a dog, more a cute little puppy, but in light of recent events, a giant slavering Rottweiler could really do the trick."  Seth knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop the rapid churning of his brain and the words just tumbled out all by themselves.

Kirsten wanted to scream at the Fates for the damage Dave Atwood had done to her family.  The brutality directed against Ryan had been bad enough, but physical wounds generally healed, eventually.  The emotional injuries took far longer.  She had to concede their blind faith in the security of Newport would probably never be recaptured.  In the meantime, she needed to comfort her son.

"I know it's hard.  I don't feel safe here anymore either, Seth.  But we have to believe it's all going to work out."

"Why?  Why do we have to believe anything?  What kind of God would let this happen to Ryan?  To **Ryan**, who's already had so much bullshit in his life?  I just don't understand."  Seth wanted desperately to be reassured.

Sandy observed the conversation with growing dismay.  Seth and Kirsten were both losing their moorings.  Neither had had much experience with violence, Seth's recent encounter with Donnie notwithstanding.  Sandy's own childhood in the Bronx had, fortunately or unfortunately, better prepared him for dealing with this situation.

"Look, there's evil in the world.  Violence is a way of life for some people.  Yes, it's wrong.  Yes, it seems especially wrong that it's affected Ryan again, after we thought we'd rescued him from that kind of life.  And yes, we'd all like to believe things like this just don't happen in Newport.  But it does.  No, Kirsten."  Sandy wasn't going to let her interrupt.  "Seth needs to understand the world out there.  So he can deal with it, handle it.  Pretending it doesn't exist isn't going to help him.  And it isn't going to help Ryan."

Seth stared at his father.  He had been looking for reassurance, a panacea, really.  Something to make him feel safe again.  After a brief flash of anger that his father wasn't making him feel better, Seth was infused with an unaccustomed sense of pride.  His dad thought he was grown up enough to handle it.  And by God, he would be.

When the doorbell rang, Seth announced that he would get it, and marched confidently to the front door.  After insisting on seeing Mickey's badge, Seth allowed the FBI agent into the house.  The Cohens briefed Mickey Harrison on the evening's events, relieved that concrete steps could now be taken to get Ryan back.

"How sure are you that they're actually headed to Mexico?" Mickey asked.

"Obviously, he could have been lying, but it does make sense.  Money will go a lot farther down there and they'll be harder to find."  Sandy shrugged.  "You know better than I do how porous the border is, especially for someone sneaking _into_ Mexico."

"OK, in addition to the highway patrol, I'll alert the border patrol to be on the lookout."  Mickey raised his hand to forestall any comments.  "Observation only!  They will be instructed not to approach the vehicle, just to call it in.  We'll keep it low key, I promise.  I'm going to take another look around, see if I missed anything."

Sandy and Kirsten sat quietly in the kitchen, content to let Seth show Mickey through the house.  He not only needed to work off his nervous energy, but after his inertia during the home invasion, Seth was determined to make up for lost time.

"Do you think it's true?'' Kirsten said softly.

"What?"

"That Dave Atwood isn't really Ryan's father?"

Sandy brushed his hand through his already disheveled hair.  "God, I hope so.  That would be the one positive thing to come out of this whole mess."

"Sandy!"

"I know, I know.  As bad as Dave is, I don't know that Ryan would be pleased to find out he's not his father.  That no one even seems to know _who_ his father is.  On top of everything else that's happened?"  Sandy turned lost eyes to Kirsten.  "How do we even begin to fix this?"

"First, we get Ryan back, safe, in this house.  We'll worry about the rest later."

"Mrs. Cohen?"  Mickey poked his head around the corner.  "Sorry to interrupt, but does this belong to you?  I found it in a planter by the front door."

"Oh God, Sandy."  Kirsten's eyes swam with sudden tears.  "He saved it.  Somehow, Ryan saved this for me."

A brilliant blue and white hummingbird sparkled in her palm.


	4. 4

Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 4

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Chapter 4

Ryan sat in the back of the van, crammed between coils of hose, boxes of cleaning solution, and the hulking form of George.  His father and Mike were in the front seat.  It was getting more difficult to breathe and the pain in his side was getting sharper.  At least the Cohen's were OK.  Nobody got hurt.  With a jerk, the van pulled out of the driveway.  Through the small, dirty windows, Ryan could just catch a glimpse of the house, his _home_, getting smaller and smaller as they drove away.  He hoped they would find the brooch he had dropped.  It was a small token, but it was the only way he could think of to let the Cohens know how truly sorry he was.

_If you still want him_.  Ryan couldn't stop thinking about his father's words.  The Cohens couldn't possibly want him back.  Not after everything he had done.  First Donnie, then Dave Atwood.  Seth had never gotten closer than a video monitor to guns before he entered the scene.  What must Kirsten think of him now?

He remembered her telling him, "I want my husband to be right about you" after catching him ordering a drink that first weekend he stayed with them.  Though it wasn't until he'd gotten Seth hurt that she had asked him to leave.  He completely understood, he even respected her for it.  Kirsten protected her family.  That's what parents were supposed to do.  She must have an incredible amount of trust in Sandy to have taken him back.  His own _mother_ had deserted him.  Why would complete strangers care if he ended up in a shelter or something?  Ryan never knew what Sandy had said to Kirsten to get her to allow him back in the house.  Sandy was good with words, a skill Ryan envied.  Is that what it took to have someone trust you that much?  

Ryan wanted desperately to earn Kirsten's trust, but now, everything he had allowed himself to hope for, to dream of, was destroyed.  He was a 100%, certified idiot.  He knew better.  He'd known better since his was six.  And yet, in a few short months the Cohens had stripped away his defenses.  Hope had made him vulnerable.  Mixed in with anger at his father, Ryan felt bitterness that he'd allowed himself to be suckered into believing life could be good.

It was like Sandy's surfing.  He was always raving about the waves.  The thing is, that moment at the crest of the wave?  It didn't last.  The water that so powerfully crashed into the beach was, a moment later, sucked back down, into the undertow, and the strong current dragged it back out to sea.  Ryan guessed that some people's waves just lasted longer than others.  Or else, maybe they kept getting a succession of waves, so that they never did hit the sand.  Not him, though.  His was a one shot deal.

George put a heavy hand on Ryan's shoulder as they slowed down to pass the development's gatehouse - a warning not to make any noise.  It was unnecessary.  Ryan knew it wouldn't make any difference anyway.  Mike nodded to the security guard.  And the van exited Pelican Cove, leaving Ryan's last shred of hope dashed like a wave on the shore.

"It's workin' like a charm," Dave chortled.

"I don't like it," Mike said.  "Sure we got past the security guard, but that don't mean they aren't calling the cops right this minute.  We got three hours until we hit the border.  I took a peek in that bag.  That's some serious shit in diamonds!  We should have handled it more permanently.  Like we did with the van."

"That's why we took Ryan, dumbass."

"Why would they care about this kid, Atwood?  If we were grabbin' a hostage, we should have taken their kid, or, like I said, just shut 'em up permanently.  We just walked off with a couple hundred thou in jewelry!  They're gonna call the cops!"  Mike was agitated.  Now that the adrenaline from the home invasion was wearing off, doubts were starting to creep in.

"Listen up," Dave warned.  "These bleeding heart types, they would never put a kid in danger.  They've practically adopted Ryan.  Didn't you see their faces?  They'll do what they're told.  Besides, shooting rich people is always a bad idea.  Stealing the van and gettin' rid of the real crew, that's not a big deal.  If the cops don't catch ya right away, they forget about it once the next guy gets shot.  You shoot rich fucks like the Cohens?  They'll chase your ass all the way to Argentina.  This is better.  Trust me.  Who just got you into the sweetest deal you ever seen?  Huh?  How about you, George?  You got any problems with how I'm handlin' things?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"  Dave's tone was dangerously low.

"Why is my ass sittin' on the floor back here?  I should be drivin'."

Ryan cringed as raucous laughter filled the van.

"'Cause Mike knows all the back ways down to ol' Mexico, don't you, Mike?  You just sit tight and babysit."  Dave twisted in his seat and looked back at Ryan.  "How're doin' kid?  Pretty slick huh?  In and out, just like I always told ya."

Ryan stared balefully at his father.  "Why did you come there, Dad?  Wouldn't it have been easier to knock over a liquor store, or one of those grocery store banks?  Why'd you have to come?"

"Show some respect, boy," Dave advised.  "You sure have gotten mouthy since I saw ya last."

"That was over four years ago.  Things change."

Dave snorted in disgust.  "No shit.  I'm out of the picture for a coupla years and the whole family goes to hell.  Dawn didn't bring you boys to visit more than two or three times.  A man has a right to see his own family!"  Ryan's eyes grew wide as his father's voice started to rise.  Dave seemed to catch himself and took a deep breath.  "Your mom, she stopped sending me your school pictures a few years ago."  He shrugged.  "I wanted to see you.  It's the last time…I ain't ever coming back here again.  When Dawn told me she landed you with the Cohens, it was perfect.  A quick in and out job, and see you at the same time."

Ryan knit his brows together in confusion.  His father sounded sincere.  How screwed up was that?  His dad thought combining an armed robbery with a visit with his son was a "perfect" situation?  His family was seriously fucked up.  And his mom "landing him" with the Cohens?  It sounded like Dawn was actually trying to take credit for the one nice thing that had ever happened to him.

"Have you seen Mom?"  Ryan asked, hesitantly.

"I don't need to see that bitch.  Last letter I sent was returned, anyway.  She didn't live there anymore.  I woulda liked to see Trey.  How's he doin'?"

"I don't know.  I wrote him twice, but he hasn't written back," Ryan admitted.  Answering his father's questions, with as little attitude as possible, was the safest route.  No doubt he wouldn't be living with the Cohens any longer, but he would still like to live through the night.

"He got you into this mess to start with, didn't he?"  Dave looked at Ryan appraisingly.  At the slight nod, Dave snorted, "Stupid, stupid fuck!  Bringin' a kid with him to boost a car!  He had a gun on him?  Drugs?"

Ryan nodded again.

"God.  What a family!  Your mom never could control him."  Dave shook his head in disgust.  "Dawn wasn't fit to raise you boys.  I shoulda been there.  Look, Ryan.  I'm sorry I missed out on seeing you grow up.  But you're a smart kid.  You got a chance now...." Ryan cut in before Dave could finish.

"I already heard this from Mom!  Right before she abandoned me for the _second_ time."  He couldn't help himself.  A certain level of fatalism was beginning to take hold.  Ryan was sure he could feel each rhythmic contraction of his heart, pushing hot blood through his body, it was so hot, and it was getting harder to take a breath.

"Dawn's weak, Ryan.  You're better off without her, she'd only drag you down with her.  And you fuckin' stay away from Trey.  He'll get you killed, next time."  Dave was enjoying his conversation with Ryan.  He hadn't had the opportunity to give fatherly counsel for years.  Sure, when he talked to other inmates, they listened to him.  He was a natural leader; he knew that.  But they didn't look at him like he imagined his kids had when they were younger.  Teaching your son, helping him become a man, that was real power.  Dave was ready to impart his wisdom to Ryan.

"Now the Cohens, they seem like they care about you.  Sendin' you to a private school and everything, I hear.  Take advantage of that, Ryan.  You could even go to college."  Dave was on a roll, caught up in a dream, where his son graduated from college and ended up running a car dealership or something.  A success.  All Dawn's crap about Ryan really being the son of that prick, Johnny Hawkins, well, it **was** crap because obviously Ryan was smart and where else would he have got that from?

Ryan was having a hard time concentrating, because his father couldn't possibly have said what he just heard.  "You're giving me _advice_?  Look around, Dad."  Ryan indicated the interior of the stolen van.  "I'm supposed to _listen_ to you?"

"You could do worse, kid," Mike threw his comment over his shoulder.  "Your dad's a smart guy."

"Damn straight!"  George chimed in.

"I been around, Ryan.  I know how the world works.  You make nice with the Cohens for a few years, get them to send you to college and you got it made.  Hell, why not?  Run for Governor, why don't ya?"  Dave laughed.

Ryan felt like he was trapped in a Fellini movie.  The fog was back and his head felt disconnected from his body.  Nothing made sense.  Nothing had made sense since he had walked into the living room a couple of hours ago and seen his father.  

"They're not going to want me back!  It's over!  It's just not gonna happen."  Ryan was near tears.  Everything hurt, he was hot, and he was nauseous.  He wasn't sure if his nausea was due more to his father's insane impersonation of Father Knows Best or his increasingly unstable stomach.  He did know he was going to be sick, and soon.

Dave reached over the seat towards Ryan, who shrank back into the coils.

"Shit, Ryan!  Are you ever gonna learn?"

Ryan couldn't hold it back any longer.  His stomach contracted.  Along with the scant remains of his long ago lunch came a warm, sticky substance.

"Christ!"  George exclaimed.  The sun had set as they were driving, and in the dim light of the dashboard, George could see a dark stain down the front of Ryan's shirt.  "That's seriously fucked up, man!"  He glanced nervously at Dave.  "That ain't normal."

"Pull over," Dave ordered.

Mike pulled the van to the side of the two-lane road they were on.  It was little used, paralleling the main highway.  They wouldn't have to worry about somebody wondering what they were dong.

"Turn on the dome light."  Dave got out of the van, opened up the back doors and climbed back inside.  He studied his son.  Ryan was pale and sweating, continuous tremors swept his body.  He clutched his stomach as if trying to hold the contents inside.  Ryan gagged, followed quickly by a series of coughs.  Drops of coagulated blood joined the mess already staining his shirt.

"Shit."  Dave was silent for a moment.  His lips thinned.  "If you hadn't been such a smart ass, this wouldn't 've happened!  Damn it!"

"What're we gonna do?"  George swallowed harshly, trying to keep his own bile down.

"Shit," Dave snapped again.  He rubbed a hand over his face and took another hard look at Ryan.  "We gotta drop him somewhere."

"But Dave!  He'll tell the cops!"  George looked to Mike for support.

"He's right.  We can't pull into a hospital or somethin'.  We don't got the time and we can't risk it.  You know it, Dave.  We got our stake.  We can't risk it now!"  Mike was begging Dave to be reasonable.

"I ain't plannin' on killin' my son," Dave stated deliberately, switching his glare between Mike and George until he was sure they were listening.  "He won't say a word.  Right, Ryan?  'Cause he knows if he does, I'll come back and visit his new family again."  Dave's voice was low and menacing.  He leaned in close to Ryan, eyes glinting coldly.  "Pay some special attention to that blonde chick.  Your new _mom_."

Ryan's gag reflex kicked off, but there was nothing left.  He was well acquainted with this side of Dave's personality.  Ryan knew his father would keep that promise.  Even if he ended up getting arrested and put back in jail, he'd get out someday.  And he wouldn't forget.

"I know how to keep my mouth shut," Ryan whispered brokenly.  "I won't say anything to anybody."

"That's my boy!"  Now that Dave had heard what he wanted to hear, he was feeling back in charge.  "Mike, wasn't there a sign about a gas station up ahead?"

"Yeah.  Should be about a mile further south," Mike agreed.  He exchanged a glance with George and shrugged.  Dave Atwood was not a man to argue with.

"OK, Ryan.  Get outta the van.  You get yourself to that gas station and you'll be fine.  Right?  Don't give nobody your name.  Remember what I said," Dave warned, waiting impatiently for Ryan to get moving.  Dispensing fatherly advice was one thing, but he wasn't about to let Ryan jeopardize his plans.

Ryan painfully pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled to the back of the van, Dave stepping aside as he passed.  Ryan gingerly eased himself out until he was standing on the ground.

No other words were said.  The van doors closed, and it drove away, leaving Ryan standing uncertainly by the side of the road.  He could see a faint glow in the distance.  Assuming the lights to be from the gas station, he wearily commanded his feet to take him there.  One foot ahead of the other, Ryan plodded forward.  Unaware of his surroundings, he tripped over a pothole and fell to his knees.  After another bout of dry heaves, Ryan managed to get back to his feet.  No longer able to concentrate, his mind disengaged, forcing his body to act on autopilot.  He just started walking, not noticing that the lights from the gas station were now behind him.  North.  He was headed back to Newport.  

Ryan stumbled through the darkness.


	5. 5

Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 5

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Sorry for the long delay.  Real life interfered!  I promise to have the next chapter up sooner.

Chapter 5

Dave Atwood didn't spare a glance for the gas station as they passed.  He was focused on the road ahead.  Mexico.  Freedom.  Wine, women, and song.  No responsibilities, no fucking guards watching his every move, no having to look over his shoulder whenever one of his enemies came onto the cell block.  Just white sand and tequila.  It was too bad Ryan had to be left behind.  He might have come in handy in Mexico.  Didn't Dawn say he took Spanish in school?  Plus, he was a good looking kid; that could've come in handy if any sort of con became necessary.  It was done though.  The little shit had gotten himself hurt and Dave wasn't a damn nurse!  It was for the best.  Ryan would get to the gas station, keep his mouth shut, and end up living the high life back in Newport Beach.  Well, Ryan wasn't the only one!  Dave planned on little high life of his own.

The van turned onto the highway.  They were only a few miles from the border.

"Shit!"  Mike cursed.

Dave was pulled from his reverie by the sudden flashing of lights coming up behind them.  A siren wailed.

"It was your fuckin' kid, Dave!  He turned us in!"  Mike was frantic.  He pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor.

"Shut the hell up!  Ryan hasn't even made it to the gas station yet," Dave snarled.  "I guess those people didn't' care about him as much as I thought they did.  We shoulda killed 'em."

"That's what I was sayin'!  Now we don't even have our fuckin' hostage!"

Dave popped the magazine from his gun, checked the number of rounds, and jammed it back in.  "We don't need him.  We can handle this just fine on our own."

Kirsten wanted to scream.  She'd been on an emotional roller coaster for hours now: abject terror, frustration, horror, followed by heart break.  Ryan had obviously left her mother's brooch as a token.  Knowing that Ryan was out _there_, alone and defenseless, was more of a burden than Kirsten ever wanted to bear.  It had been difficult to lose her mother.  Losing her link to the little girl she had been; that comforting knowledge that no matter what happened, her mom would always provide a hug, a willing ear, and a cup of cocoa.  It was the worst pain Kirsten had ever felt.  Nothing, however, prepared Kirsten for the devastation of having a child in danger.

If it had been Seth (and God, please hear my prayer never to let anything like this happen to Seth), at least she would be certain that Seth knew that she loved him and that his family was moving Heaven and Earth to get him back safely.  Ryan wouldn't think that, Kirsten knew.  Ryan probably thought he deserved every brutal blow and disparaging word Dave Atwood dispensed.  He was hurt and alone and she just.  Couldn't.  Take it.  Anymore.

Although Kirsten appeared to be sitting quietly, her long fingers rapidly tore napkins into bits, her turmoil reflected by the growing pile of shredded paper.

Not for the first time that evening, Sandy felt helpless.  Watching his wife sitting at the kitchen island, mindlessly shredding napkins and drinking cup after cup of coffee, he wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right.  He was the patriarch of his family, dammit, he was supposed to keep everyone fed, warm, and safe.

"Way to go 'caveman', Dad."

Sandy started.  Had he said that out loud?

"Don't worry.  I don't think Mom heard you."  Seth gave his father a weak smile.  He'd been burning off as much energy as he could, pacing the confines of the kitchen, but he could still feel the surplus buzzing around his body and mind.  God, he couldn't shut his mind off!  He'd tried translating his Calculus word problems into French, but that wasn't enough to keep his thoughts from swinging inexorably to Ryan.

Even after meeting Dawn, Seth could never have imagined how awful Ryan's life was before coming to Newport Beach.  Drunk mother, violent father, an older brother who looks after you by teaching you how to steal a car?  Of course, Seth admitted to himself, he didn't usually want to imagine the pre-Seth Ryan.  It had seemed too uncomfortable, somehow.

Seth decided that when, _when_ Ryan came home, he was going to be the older brother Ryan should have had.  After all, he was 27 days older than Ryan, wasn't he?  Mom and Dad were already doing a good job of parenting Ryan.  It was his turn to pick up the slack.  Over were the days when Ryan would have to watch Seth's back.  He was the big brother; it was his responsibility to take care of Ryan.  And not like the whole model home fiasco either.  He would do a good job, this time.

Sandy gazed thoughtfully at Seth.  His son's face was incredibly expressive.  A series of emotions flitted across Seth's face, settling on determination.  Deciding Seth was doing okay on his own, Sandy walked over to Kirsten.  He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"It's gonna be okay, darling.  You'll see.  We'll get Ryan back and you can mother the hell out of him!"

Kirsten smiled softly and leaned against her husband's strong chest.  Tilting her head back to look up at Sandy, she said quietly, "I can't wait."

"Sandy."  Mickey stuck his head into the kitchen.  He'd been on the phone with various law enforcement agencies, monitoring the situation from the den.  At the interruption, Sandy and Kirsten snapped their heads towards the kitchen door.  Seth stopped his pacing.  Three identical expressions of hope and fear adorned their faces.

"I've got some news, " Mickey paused.  He didn't look happy.  "The van."  He stopped again, tiredly rubbing his temple.

"For God's sake, Mickey!"  Sandy pleaded with him.

After a quick huff of breath, Mickey continued.  "A patrol car spotted a van speeding on a county road only a few miles from the border, and attempted to pull it over."

"What the hell!"  Sandy exploded.  "We **trusted** you to control the situation!  Everyone was just supposed to observe!  How could this happen!"

"What about Ryan?"  Kirsten didn't think she could be any more afraid.

Mickey held up his hand.  "Let me finish.  Please.  Just let me get through the whole thing.  Okay?"

Reluctantly, Sandy and Kirsten nodded.  Seth, transfixed, just stood there, teeth clamped on his lower lip – it was the only way he could keep himself from talking, no **screaming**, at the top of his lungs.

"In response to the sirens, the van sped up instead of pulling over, so the guys called it in.  We had a number of units in the area.  Discreetly, I promise!"  Mickey wanted to forestall any further comments.  "At that point, there wasn't any more need for stealth, so a few units got ahead and set up a roadblock."  Mickey paused again, letting out a long sigh.  He was not at all happy with how the situation had been handled, but it was too late to do anything about that now.  To add to his growing ulcer, knowing Sandy, the entire California legal establishment would soon be locked up in litigation for many years to come.  "To summarize, there was a shoot out.  The three perpetrators were all confirmed dead at the scene.  A bag containing jewelry was recovered.  Ryan…well, Ryan wasn't found in the van."

"Where is he?"  Sandy demanded.  "Where's Ryan?"

"We don't know," Mickey admitted.

"How is that possible?  They took him with them as a hostage!  Where **is** he?"  Every twist of this horrific evening reverberated with an echoing twist in Kirsten's gut.

"At this point, all we can speculate is that they dropped him off somewhere along the way.  We're searching all the possible routes they could have taken to get to the spot they were intercepted."

"He's hurt.  You know that, right?  How long is it going to take to find him?"

"Sandy.  God.  I wish I could give you an answer.  You know how it is.  It's dark, there are a lot of unused roads in the area.  If Ryan's unconscious, or.…"  Mickey's voice stopped abruptly.  He realized how close he'd come to telling the truth, as he believed it.  The kid was probably dead.  Whether from his injuries, or maybe a thwarted escape attempt, or just because they figured they didn't need him anymore.  Whatever the reason, Mickey Harrison didn't hold a lot of hope of finding Ryan alive.

"And, because of your fuck-up, we can't even ask anyone, can we?  Dave Atwood is dead.  _They're all dead_."  Sandy had gone so far past rage that he couldn't put a name to his own emotion.  His voice was cold and menacing.

Kirsten and Seth both looked at him uncertainly.  This was a Sandy they had never seen before.

Mickey swallowed convulsively.  He'd known Sandy for a long time, shared many a beer with him, but at this moment, he felt like he was face to face with a dangerous man.  Underneath Sandy's normally affable exterior, was a man who grew up tough, someone who was able to take care of himself on the streets of New York City.  "I've got half the forces in the area mobilized, Sandy.  There are several dog teams coming in.  We'll find him.  I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you've got to trust me on this.  We are doing everything possible."

Sandy and Mickey stared at each other for a few moments, neither one backing down.  Sandy gave a curt nod, then reached for the car keys sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Not _everything_ is being done.  Seth, Kirsten, grab some jackets and let's go."

"What are you gonna to do?"  Mickey asked.

"We're going to find Ryan."

Sam Whitman was whistling.  He'd been on the road for three days and was looking forward to getting home to his wife and kids.  As a representative for a veterinary supply company, Sam put a lot of miles on his car.  He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  He'd had several cups of coffee at his last stop and now…well, he'd passed a gas station several miles back but he didn't really want to turn around, and besides, the road was deserted.  He slowed down, looking for a good place to pull off.

A few minutes later, Sam felt a lot better.  He began whistling again as he started back to his car.  He got into the driver's seat and flipped through his stack of CD's.  He was in a dead zone, no radio or cell phone reception.  He'd have to rely on Dwight Yoakam to get him home, he thought.  As he straightened up, Sam froze.  There was a black shadow alongside the road, 10 feet or so in front of his car.  His headlights touched the edge.  Sam was startled when he thought he saw movement.  The shadow gradually became a person, who seemed to be on his or her hands and knees, retching.  Cautiously, Sam pulled a flashlight from his glove compartment and got out of the car.

"Hello?" he called, shining his flashlight toward the figure.  Sam was a big man, and fit.  He wasn't especially concerned.  After spending years on the road, he trusted his instincts about things.  He'd even picked up a hitchhiker or two, much to his wife's subsequent dismay.  All the same, he wasn't going to be stupid.  "Hello?" he said again.

Ragged moaning was his only response.  Sam stepped closer, his light illuminating a teenaged boy, hunched over, consumed with dry heaves.

"My God.  What happened to you?"  Sam rushed to the boy's side.  The boy was sweaty, and clammy, and trying desperately to hold onto his ribs as he was wracked by continuous heaves.  "Were you hit by a car?  Shit!  A hit and run, I'll bet."  Sam shook his head in disgust.  What kind of person would run into a kid and then just drive off?  There weren't any houses or anything in the area, the kid was probably hitchhiking and somebody clipped him in the dark.  "Come on, let's get you in the car."

"No."  The boy's voice was feeble.

Sam had to lean in close.  Even then, he could barely hear him.

"Don't touch me."  An equally feeble swat caught Sam on the nose.

Under different circumstances, he would have laughed.  As it was, crouching by the side of a deserted, unlit road, the injured boy's reaction disturbed him.

"What's your name?" he asked, re-evaluating the situation.  Maybe it hadn't been a hit and run.  He looked around, nervously.

"Nobody," was the soft reply.

"Hmph."  Sam was not about to just drive off and leave this kid behind.  "You need to go to a hospital.  Come on.  Can you stand up?  I'll carry you if I have to."

The boy grunted, using Sam's arm as leverage to get to his feet.  Eventually, he was standing.  Not upright, exactly.  But standing.  Immediately, his feet started moving, shuffling, as if their weight was just too much to lift.

Sam, momentarily shocked into inaction, watched in amazement as the boy staggered away from him.

"Wait!  What are you doing?  Get in the car!"  Sam scurried up along side the teenager.  He peered into his eyes, trying to convince the obviously disoriented youth that he was trying to help.

"No hospital.  Home.  Need….Home."  A small series of wet coughs accompanied the boy's whispered words.

Frustrated, Sam grabbed his arm.  With a sharp cry, the boy tried to jerk his arm away.  Blue eyes wide with fear, he took a step back, arm still in Sam's grip.

"Hell.  What happened to you, kid?"  Sam let go, horrified at the boy's reaction.  "I'm just trying to help you."

With a lost look in his eyes, the boy turned, took one more step, and then faltered.  Sam was there as he crumpled, sweeping the unconscious teenager into his arms.  Concerned by the raspy breathing and traces of blood staining the boy's lips and the front of his shirt, Sam carefully propped him up in the front seat.  "I'm worried about your ribs, kiddo, but I still gotta put a seatbelt on you.  Don't think you'll stay upright unless I do."

Sam hurried about the front of the car and started the engine.  Veterinary medicine was obviously different from human medicine, but Sam knew the boy was in bad shape.  "I gotta get you to a hospital," he muttered.

"No.  Please.  Home."

The words were spoken so softly, Sam didn't even hear them.


	6. 6

Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 6

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Chapter 6

Headlights swept the highway, briefly illuminating shrubs, the occasional tree, and trash that dotted the side of the road.  Three passengers stared intently from different windows as the Range Rover drove south.  In the backseat, Seth used a flashlight to highlight the map of San Diego County spread out on his knees.

"Okay.  We're all agreed that they probably didn't drop Ryan off until they were reasonably close to the border, and they would have dropped him in an uninhabited area so he couldn't call anyone, right?  So, once we get past San Diego, maybe we should turn off the highway.  Try some of these smaller roads.  Sound good?"  Seth reached over the front seat and handed the map to Kirsten, tapping the area he was talking about.

Kirsten stared at the small squiggly lines.  "You know I'm hopeless with maps.  Sandy, why don't I drive?  You and Seth can plan our route."

"No," Sandy said shortly.  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Sandy, you can't keep punishing yourself.  We both agreed to contact the FBI.  There's no reason to believe they knew we called the police."

"I know that, "Sandy said impatiently, never taking his eyes off the black ribbon stretching before him.

"Well then, why won't you let me drive?"

"I know I'm being irrational, Kirsten.  But I can't help it."  Sandy shrugged, casting a quick glance over at Kirsten before returning his eyes to the road.  "I just feel…like somehow I can **make this damn car find Ryan.  It's stupid.  It's borderline insane.  But that's the way I feel."**

"Okay."  Kirsten patted his arm gently.  "Seth, you get us to the general area, and we'll just follow our instincts from there."

A maroon sedan sped north.  Sam tried to keep his focus on the road, but the weak murmurs coming from the teenaged boy beside him were very distracting.

"No.  Don't.  Leave them alone."

The word 'them' caught Sam's attention.

"Was there someone else back there?  Someone else hurt?" he questioned.  Maybe he should pull off and see if his cell phone would work now.  Sam was convinced that this was not a simple hit and run.  If there was another person, another kid, back there, the police should be notified as soon as possible.

The boy's head tossed restlessly.  "Stop…stop…don't touch me…I'm sorry…."

Sam grew more disturbed by the minute.  Resolutely, he pressed harder on the accelerator.  He knew there was a hospital in the next town.  All thoughts of pulling off the road to use his cell phone were abandoned.  He needed to get this kid to a doctor.  The police would have to wait a little while longer.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted the bright lights of the hospital emergency entrance.  Leaving the teenager buckled in his seat, Sam hurried up to the nurses' station.

"I found a kid by the side of the road.  I thought at first it was a hit and run, but now…I don't know."  Sam's anxious comments quickly got the attention of the admitting nurse.

"Where is the child now?" she asked crisply.

"He's not really a child…he's a teenager…in my car.  Out front."  Sam was relieved that his responsibility was almost at an end.

"Johnny, " the nurse called.  "Get a gurney and take Amanda with you.  Follow this gentleman out to his car.  Possible hit and run victim."  She turned back to Sam.  "Sir, your name?"

"Sam Whitman."

"Mr. Whitman, please come back to this desk after we've brought in the boy.  There's some paperwork that will need to be filled out."

Sam agreed, suddenly nervous.  Surely they didn't think **he** had hurt the kid?  As he led the two attendants away from the desk, he heard the nurse say into her headset, "Who's on call tonight?  Officer Johansson?  Send him over here, will you?"

Ryan was not happy when a bright light suddenly shone into his eyes.

"Can you hear me?  What's your name, son?"

A groan was Ryan's only response.

Pain suddenly flared as hands reached across him to unbuckle his seatbelt and gently extricated him from the car.  Vague words fluttered into his consciousness, "…keep…head straight…back board…Careful!"

Eventually, Ryan felt as if he was moving again.  It was strange though, because he didn't think his feet were even on the ground.  Odd chatter continued to float around him.  Ryan protested weakly as movement came to a sudden stop.  "No.  Home."  He tried to communicate with the shapes surrounding him but whatever they were, they weren't listening.  "Home."

"One, two, three, lift!"

A small prick in the back of his hand and Ryan slipped into unconsciousness once more.

The theme from the Lone Ranger suddenly rang out, startling the occupants of the Range Rover.

"Sandy!  Your phone!"  Kirsten exclaimed.

Sandy pulled over to the side of the road and stopped so sharply that Seth and Kirsten were both thrown against their seatbelts.

"Hello?"  Sandy's voice was strained.

"Sandy, this is Mickey.  A boy matching Ryan's description was brought in to Western Memorial Hospital in Chule Vista around 60 minutes ago."

"Is it Ryan?"

"There's no ID and he's not lucid, so…"

"Not lucid?   What does that mean?" Sandy interrupted.   He tried to ignore Kirsten's and Seth's gasps as he waited for Mickey's response.

"From what I understand, he's been pretty much unconscious since he was found.  And when he is awake, he's not really answering questions.  I can't promise anything Sandy, but the description sounds like Ryan.  Where are you?  I'll give you directions."

Trying to speak over the lump that suddenly took up residence in his throat, Sandy told Mickey where they were.  He jotted down directions to the hospital on the back of the map they had been using.

"Is he badly hurt?  This boy they found?" Sandy asked cautiously.

"Sandy!"  Kirsten couldn't restrain herself any longer.

"Sshh!  I'm trying to hear," Sandy hissed.

The hesitation before Mickey's answer filled Sandy with dread.

"I don't really have a lot of details, Sandy.  Just that the kid was found by the side of the road by a motorist and brought to the hospital.  The area and the victim's description fit Ryan's case, so the local sheriff's office contacted me.  That's pretty much all I know.  I'm sorry."

"Okay, Mickey.  Thanks for the call.  We'll be on our way."

"Let me know if it's him, will you Sandy?  Give me a call as soon as you know."

"I will.  Thanks again."  Sandy bowed his head and stared at the phone in his hand for a moment.

"Dad, if you don't tell us within the next 30 nanoseconds exactly what's going on, I will not be held responsible for my actions!"  Seth pounded on his father's headrest for emphasis.

Sandy slowly lifted his head and gazed at his wife and son.  Seth was hanging so far over the front seat that he was practically in Kirsten's lap.

"It's him.  I know it in my heart.  They've found Ryan."

The drive to the hospital was made in silence.  Minds whirled with possibilities that no one dared speak aloud.  What if it wasn't Ryan and they were abandoning their search while he remained out there, hurt and alone?  What if it _was Ryan and he was badly injured, maybe dying?  Kirsten's mind contributed yet another scenario:  what if Ryan felt so guilty about his father's actions that he wouldn't come home with them?  Anxiety and fear piled up in enormous mounds by the time the Range Rover finally made it to the hospital's parking lot._

Seth tumbled out of the car the second it stopped moving.  Racing into the emergency entrance, he was breathless by the time he reached the admitting desk.  Panting heavily, he stared at the nurse behind the counter, unable to do more than stammer.

"We're here…for…Ryan…At…Atwood."

Used to distraught family members after years in the emergency room, even Lisa Chambers was taken aback by this red-faced, panting boy hopping up and down before her.  After a silent moment, her professionalism took over.

"What was the name?"

"Ryan Atwood.  But he was brought in without ID, so he might be listed as a 'John Doe'."  Sandy took over for his breathless son, Kirsten close behind.

"Ah.  Are you here for the teenaged boy that was brought in?"  At their affirmative nod, Lisa continued.  "Please have a seat.  I'll have Officer Johansson come speak with you as soon as possible.  Then one of you can come back and make a positive identification.  All right?"  She smiled reassuringly.  Being kind and understanding, yet firm was the best way to deal with the variety of people she dealt with everyday.  It didn't work with this group.

"We aren't going anywhere until we've seen our son!"  Sandy snarled.

"Get this Officer Johansson here immediately!"  Kirsten was not about to be intimidated.  "This is extremely urgent.  If this boy isn't our son, we need to get out there and continue looking for him!"

Lisa fumbled for the phone, looking somewhat nervously at the group.  Heavens, the man's eyebrows alone would scare half of the staff!  "Julie, is Officer Johansson still with the John Doe?  He is?  Please have him come out right now.  The boy's family is here."  Her smile this time was not so confident.  "He'll be right out."

The Cohens planted themselves in front of the admitting desk, determined to hold their ground until someone brought them to the patient they so desperately hoped was Ryan.

"Mr. Cohen?"  A tall, handsome Hispanic man in a police uniform stepped through the security door and called out to them.

In unison, the three turned and trotted toward him.

"I've got to start working out," Seth muttered to himself, still breathing heavily.  "This is ridiculous."

"I'm Sandy Cohen.  This is my wife, Kirsten and our son, Seth.  Where's Ryan?"  Sandy spoke quickly, wanting to get the preliminaries over as soon as possible.

"I'm Officer Johansson.  Could you describe the kid you're looking for, Mr. Cohen?"  The boy had obviously been beaten and Carlos Johansson wasn't about to just turn him over to anyone who came in.

"He's 17, about 5'9", sandy colored hair, blue eyes," Sandy rattled off Ryan's statistics.  He smiled sadly.  "Independent, stubborn and prone to getting into situations beyond his control."

The police officer grinned at the description.  "This kid is stubborn all right.  He keeps trying to rip out his IV and get out of bed."

Kirsten stifled a sob as she pulled a picture from her purse.  She held it out to the officer.  "This is Ryan's school photo."

"Well, that looks like him.  We still need a positive identification.  I'll also need to verify your identity before I take you to see him."

Sandy pulled out his wallet and removed a stack of cards.  "Here's my driver's license, American Express card, American Bar Association ID, Diner's Club…"

"Okay," Carlos said after studying the driver's license.  "Only one of you is allowed.  Mr. Cohen, will you be making the ID?"

After getting a slight nod from Kirsten, Sandy replied, "Yes, and please, call me Sandy."

"Sure, Sandy.  Let's go back."  Carlos ushered Sandy through the security door. 

Kirsten and Seth both fought the urge to rush in after them.

Silently walking past curtained cubicles, Sandy prayed.  "Please, God.  Please let this be Ryan.  And let him be okay."  His silent litany stopped when Officer Johansson drew back a curtain and waved him inside.  The lone occupant didn't stir as he entered.  The soft, steady beep of a heart monitor was the only sound.  The harsh, glaring light irritated Sandy's eyes, making them water.

Sandy choked back a sob at the sight of the still figure on the bed.  The bed was inclined so the teenager was propped up.  An oxygen mask covered most of his face.  A variety of tubes and lines seemed to surround him.  "It's him.  It's Ryan.  Who can tell me about his condition?  How badly is he injured?"

Sandy didn't even realize his feet were moving but suddenly, he was beside the bed, gently brushing tousled bangs off of Ryan's forehead.  His heart clenched.  Ryan looked so vulnerable.  So young.

Carlos looked carefully at Sandy Cohen, needing to reassure himself that this man was truly interested in the boy's welfare.  The anguish in Sandy's eyes convinced him.

"Doctor Jacobs has been treating him.  I'll ask him to come in."  Carlos stepped out briefly to ask a passing attendant to find Doctor Jacobs.  Stepping back in, he hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but his curiosity was too strong.

"Can you tell me what happened?  The guy who picked him up thought at first it was a hit and run, but it's obvious to me he's been beaten.  I heard a little bit about a robbery when I phoned it in, but don't have any details."

Softly, so as not to disturb Ryan, Sandy said as little as possible.  "Three men invaded our house.  They took Ryan hostage so we wouldn't call the police until they got away.  For some reason, they dumped him off.  We've already given all the details to the police back in Newport."  He didn't want to think about that anymore.  Ryan was safe now.  His entire family was safe. That's the only thing that was important.  He'd think about his failure later.

"They died, right?  There was a shoot…"

"Stop!"  Sandy hissed.  Ryan moaned softly and Sandy continued to softly stroke his hair, refusing to let the officer's ill-advised comments divert his attention.

"Sorry," Carlos said guiltily.  "I wasn't thinking.  I'll, um, I'll go get your wife and son.  Tell them it's Ryan.  Okay?"

"Sure.  And see where Doctor Jacobs is, will you?"

"Doctor Jacobs is here."  A round, cheerful man, about 5'6", bounced into the room, smiling up at Officer Johansson as he slunk out of the cubicle.  "Are you the father of this young man?" he asked Sandy.

"Yes.  Well, his foster father, I guess.  I'm Sandy Cohen."  Sandy was somewhat taken aback by Doctor Jacobs' hearty handshake.

"And what's his name?  I hate calling my patients 'John Doe.'  Damn dehumanizing, I always think."

"Ryan.  Ryan Atwood."  Sandy was a little bewildered by the dynamo in charge of Ryan's care.

"Ryan, huh?  I thought he looked more like a 'Clark,' but maybe that's just me!"  As he spoke, the doctor quickly checked Ryan's chart and the output from his heart monitor.

Seth tried to stifle his laugh, resulting in a "snerk" sound.  He and Kirsten had hurried to Ryan's cube as soon as the officer let them back.  Doctor Jacobs multi-tasked, sending a grin Seth's way as he checked Ryan's pulse.

"And who might you be?"

"Seth.  Ryan's brother."

"Well, come on in then.  Stop blocking the hallway.  Nurses have important things to do out there you know!"

Somehow, the doctor's jovial mood was infectious.  Seth grinned back at him, feeling better than he had for hours.

Kirsten slipped into the room, going to Sandy's side and put her hand into his, squeezing gently.  She bit her lip as she gazed down at Ryan.  Extending her other hand, she trailed her fingers down the bruise on Ryan's cheek.  "How are you, sweetie?" she said quietly.  She got no response.  She looked intently at the doctor.  "How is he?"

"Mrs. Cohen, I presume?  Let me ask Julie to step in here to check over Ryan and we'll go to my office for an update.  Do you want your son to wait here?  Or come with us?"

"I'm staying with Ryan."  No matter how badly Seth wanted to know exactly what was wrong with his brother, he wasn't going to let Ryan out of his sight.

"All righty.  Julie, make sure Seth doesn't press any buttons he's not supposed to.  We'll be back shortly."

Seth took his parents' place at Ryan's bedside.  Still overwhelmed with relief, Seth refused to let Ryan's unnatural stillness dampen his newly revived spirits.  Nevertheless, he spoke quietly.  "Come on buddy.  It's me, Seth.  Open your eyes.  No?  Fine, that just leaves more 'Me' time.  Did I tell you what Summer said in Biology today?"

Julie couldn't help but smile as Seth chattered away to his silent brother.

Doctor Jacobs ushered Sandy and Kirsten into a small office down the hall.  His cheerful mood abated slightly as he spoke.

"First of all.  What do you know about Ryan's injuries?  Are you aware at all of what happened to him?"

When Sandy didn't speak, Kirsten stepped into the void.  "We were there, doctor.  We saw most of it.  At least, we saw what happened at our house.  What happened after they took him away.…"  She couldn't continue.

"I know this must be difficult, but knowing how the injuries occurred can help."

"What exactly do you need to know?"  Sandy broke in harshly.  "That he was beaten?  Kicked repeatedly?  While I sat there and did nothing?  Then let them drag him away to do God knows what else to him?"

"Sandy!" Kirsten exclaimed.

"Mr. Cohen."  Doctor Jacobs face was serious.  "In my wildest dreams, I was not intending to accuse you of voluntarily allowing Ryan to be harmed.  I wasn't there.  I have no idea what you've gone through.  What your family has gone through.  And frankly, at this moment, I don't really have time for this.  My concern is for my patient.  So stop feeling sorry for yourself and let me help your son."  He drew a deep breath.  "The kicking explains the ribs and the damage to the thoracic cavity.  Those are the most serious injuries."

"What about the blood?  Ryan was coughing up blood."  During the prior exchange, Kirsten had steeled herself.  Locking her emotions away as best she could, she was determined to be strong.

Sandy kicked himself internally.  He had had no intent of letting his feelings of inadequacy burst out into the cold light of the emergency room.  It wouldn't happen again.  He turned his attention to the doctor.

"In light of everything, your son's injuries really aren't too severe.  Various contusions and small lacerations; nothing bad enough to require stitches.  As I mentioned, the trauma to the chest is what I'm most concerned about.  In addition to two cracked ribs on the left side, Ryan suffered what's known as hemothorax by laceration of internal vessels.  Basically, the damage resulted in blood collecting in the pleural space in Ryan's chest.  It causes difficulty in respiration and can lead to hypotension.  The blood loss in Ryan's case isn't acute.  We've inserted a chest tube to drain the fluid, he's receiving oxygen to assist his breathing, and we're monitoring his blood pressure and cardiac performance very closely."  Doctor Jacobs smiled gently at the obviously shell-shocked couple.  "It's a lot to take in, I know.  Do you have any questions?"

"You're draining blood from Ryan's chest?"  Kirsten looked sick at the thought.

"Yes, Mrs. Cohen.  The X-rays and CT scans have shown improvement and Ryan's stable.  The chest tube seems to be doing its job."

"What are the risks?  The complications?"

"Any trauma of this nature is obviously serious.  Collapsed lung or hemorrhagic shock are the most serious risks.  There's also risk of infection with the chest tube.  But, honestly, Ryan is looking good.  We've had a consult with a pediatric thoracic surgeon, and she agrees.  Unless something unexpected happens, Ryan should recover fully, without any long term effects."

Sandy and Kirsten didn't look convinced.

"It sounds worse than it is, believe me.  We'll get him moved to the Pediatric Cardiac ward and monitor his condition for the next few days.  Once the blood collection resolves and the collected fluid is fully evacuated, we'll remove the chest tube and he should be able to go home on…let's see, what day is it?  Thursday?  No, not anymore.  2am.  Now it's Friday!"  Doctor Jacobs positively beamed in triumph once he'd figured out what day it was.

Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other in disbelief.  Had it truly only been nine hours since Dave Atwood had burst into their house?  It didn't seem possible.

"Ryan should be able to go home Sunday or thereabout.  Doctor Rodriguez will be taking over his case once he leaves the emergency room.  Juanita's terrific.  Ryan will be in excellent hands.  Well.  I'm sure you'll have more questions after you've had a chance to take it all in.  Don't hesitate to ask for me if something comes up.  I'm on duty through dawn."  The doctor turned serious once again.  "In this type of situation, obviously there will be emotional trauma as well as physical.  You might want to consider therapy for Ryan, for all of you, really.  I can make some recommendations?"

"Thank you, Doctor."  Sandy had regained his composure.  "We haven't really had time to think about anything yet.  But you're right, this has certainly been traumatic for the whole family.  We know some excellent therapists back in Newport.  We'll figure out what's best for Ryan…for everyone."  He squeezed Kirsten's hand.  "I think we'd like to get back to Ryan now."

"Of course.  Of course.  Let's make sure young master Seth hasn't accidentally unplugged the EKG."  Doctor Jacobs sprang from his chair and hurried out of the room.  Somewhat bemused, the Cohens followed him back to Ryan's room.

"…and then she said, 'Stuff it Cohen.  I could dissect this shark with my eyes closed.'  Can you imagine Summer armed with a scalpel?  She'd make _Wolverine_ feel inadequate!"

"X-Men fan?"

Seth jumped at Doctor Jacobs' comment.  He smiled sheepishly.  "Just trying to keep Ryan company.  As you may have noticed, he's not mister talkative.  I usually have to more than hold up my end of the conversation."

"We've got him sedated, Seth.  He wasn't really happy to be trapped in a hospital.  Chest tubes and IV's don't seem to be his cup of tea, somehow.  You know, I think he's going to be a lot happier when he wakes up this time."  The doctor took one more quick look at Ryan's chart.  "Someone from Pediatric Cardiology should be down shortly to bring Ryan to his room.  In the meantime, I'm afraid someone has a lot of paperwork to fill out for our former John Doe.  We'd like information on Ryan's medical history, allergies, etcetera, as soon as possible."

Sandy nodded glumly.  Kirsten was holding firmly onto Ryan's hand and didn't look like she'd be willing to let go.  "I guess that would be me.  I'll go back to the front desk and handle this.  Give Mickey a call, too.  Be back soon."

Sandy heard Seth start in on Kirsten as he left.

"Okay, Mom.  Let me have it.  I want to know everything."

Sandy checked in with the desk and groaned at the sheaf of papers he was given.  Clasping the clipboard to his chest, he prepared to settle down in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.  He spotted Officer Johansson across the room and decided to speak with him.  Filling out Ryan's social security number could wait.

"Officer?  I don't mean to interrupt…"  Sandy barely spared a glance for the man Johansson was with.

"It's okay, Sandy.  In fact, I'd like to introduce you two.  Sandy, this is Sam Whitman.  He's the good Samaritan who found Ryan and brought him in."

That got Sandy's attention.

"Sam, this is Sandy Cohen.  Ryan's foster father."

"My god!"  Sandy stared in shock.  "Thank you, thank you!  I can't tell you how grateful we are.  Where did you find him?  How did you find him?  I don't know how we'll ever repay you!"  By this time, Sandy was pumping Sam Whitman's hand.

Sam seemed embarrassed by the attention.  "It was nothing, honestly.  Anyone would have done the same.  I…I just wanted to make sure the boy was all right before I headed home."

"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Whitman.  I can think of a lot of people who wouldn't have done what you did."  Sandy's face darkened.

"Um, " Sam's gaze shifted nervously between Officer Johansson and Sandy Cohen.  "So.  Is Ryan, that's his name, right?  Ryan?  Is he going to be okay?"

Sandy shook off his anger at Dave Atwood and tried to give Sam a reassuring smile.  "Ryan should be fine.  He's got a couple of rough days ahead of him, but he should be just fine."

"I'd like to keep in touch, if that's okay?  I know it sounds weird, I mean, really, I only saw him for 30 minutes or so, but…I feel kind of connected, you know?  Responsible."  Sam stammered over his request.  He didn't want to come across as some sort of pervert or anything, but he did feel a connection to the mysterious boy he'd picked up.  He'd spent thirty of the most intense minutes of his life caring for Ryan Atwood and was reluctant to just walk way.  "Maybe my wife and I could see him?  Once he's up to receiving visitors, obviously."

Sandy was unsure.  He was naturally inclined to believe the best of everyone, but the evening's events had made him suspicious.  After his initial flush of excitement at meeting the man who had rescued Ryan, he felt wary.  For all he knew, Sam Whitman was an accomplice of Dave Atwood's who had brought Ryan to the hospital when he found out the police were closing in.

He turned to Officer Johansson, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"Sam sells veterinary supplies, Sandy.  He was headed home to San Diego when he found Ryan."

Sam was confused.  Why were they talking about his job?

"Oh.  Well, why don't you give me your number, Mr. Whitman.  We'll call you when Ryan is feeling better.  However, we'll be bringing him home to Newport Beach, so I don't know how convenient that'll be for you and your wife."

"Call me Sam, please.  You're from Newport?  How on earth did Ryan end all the way down here?"

Sandy exchanged another glance with Carlos Johansson.  Home invasion in upper class Newport Beach ending up with a humble Good Samaritan rescuing the badly injured foster son who just happened to be the real life son of the escaped convict who carried out the home invasion?  This was a front page nightmare just waiting to happen.  They'd be lucky to avoid Jerry Springer.  For Ryan's sake, Sandy wanted as few details in the public domain as humanly possible.

"Ryan got beat up by someone he used to know and they dumped him down here.  We're just grateful you found him and eager to get him home as soon as possible.  He means a lot to my family, Sam."  Sandy reached out to shake his hand again, a little less vigorously, searching for signs in Sam's eyes that he knew more than he was letting on.  The compassion he found there made him feel somewhat guilty for his evasiveness.  After all, this man, in all probability, had saved Ryan's life.

"He certainly seems to feel the same way about you.  All he kept talking about was going home."  Sam dropped his eyes, certain he wasn't getting the entire story, but he was content.  The details didn't matter.  He'd saved a life today.  And from the strong emotions radiating from Sandy Cohen, his instinct about the young man he'd found was correct. "I should be getting home myself.  Loretta will be worried about me."

Sandy clapped Sam on the back in farewell.  He turned back to Officer Carlos Johansson, eyeing the obviously Hispanic man.

"Officer Johansson?  Do you mind my asking…?"

"Swedish grandfather.  Don't worry, I get asked that all the time."


	7. 7

Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 7

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Many, many thanks to my betas, Julie, Anna, and Lisa.  They all had wonderful suggestions and comments and any problems that remain in the story are solely my responsibility.  Thanks also to the TWoP community who supported and needled me relentlessly until I finally finished.

Chapter 7 

Ryan's head hurt.  So did his chest.  And his back.  Pretty much everything hurt, if he really thought about it.  So he didn't.  He lay quietly, floating in the cool darkness.  Somehow, he knew that if he opened his eyes, he'd be opening the lid to Pandora's Box.  Plague, pestilence, sorrow.  A host of horrible things would fly out and contaminate his world.  If he just kept his eyes shut, everything could remain inside.

"Ryan?  Open your eyes, Ryan."  A soft voice penetrated his sanctuary.  Didn't they understand about the box?

"You're safe, now.  Please, Ryan, open your eyes."  The voice wouldn't leave him alone.  It wasn't an unpleasant voice.  Melodious, even.  Although there was an undercurrent of something Ryan couldn't quite identify.  Fear?  Anxiety?  Those emotions didn't make sense.  Why would anyone be anxious about _him_?  Curiosity was successful where pleading was not.  Ryan opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus.  

And Pandora's Box opened.

A harsh, piercing light shone in his eyes.  Pain screamed along every nerve ending.  His chest was enflamed.  And worse than all of his physical problems – guilt.  Kirsten was there.

His memories came roaring out of the box along with everything else.  His father, the robbery; he remembered it all.  Hope.  Where was hope?  Wasn't hope supposed to be left in the box?  He squeezed his eyes shut, but he was too late.  Hope was gone.  All Ryan had left was guilt.  Blearily, he opened his eyes again.

She smiled at him; bright, unshed tears in her eyes.  Relief washed over her.

"How're you feeling, sweetie?  Seth and Sandy are down in the cafeteria having lunch.  They'll be upset that they missed you.  Do you think you can stay awake long enough to see them?"  Kirsten knew she was rambling, but the shuttered look on Ryan's face was scaring her.  He had yet to speak.

"Ryan?  I'll call the nurse, OK?  You're safe now."  She pushed at the call button haphazardly, unwilling to tear her gaze from Ryan's face.  "Do you understand me?"

Kirsten looked up in relief as the nurse came into Ryan's room.  She backed away, letting the nurse fuss over her patient.  Hearing Ryan's murmured responses to the nurse reassured her that he was able to talk, even if he didn't want to talk to her.  At one point, Ryan's eyes met hers, and his panicked look at the inadvertent contact was clear before he slid his eyes away.

"Mrs. Cohen?"

Kirsten was startled.  She'd been so busy trying to figure out what was wrong with Ryan that she'd completely forgotten the nurse.

"I need to check Ryan over.  Can you wait outside for a few minutes?"

Nodding sadly, Kirsten backed out of the room.

Sandy and Seth found her in the hallway outside Ryan's room about twenty minutes later.

"Is something wrong?  Why are you out here?" Sandy asked.

"Ryan's awake.  The nurse asked me to step out."  Kirsten tried her best to sound happy about that.

"He's awake?  How is he?  Did he say anything?"  Seth was so focused on Ryan that any nuances in Kirsten's voice flew right over his head.

"What's wrong, Kirsten."  It was a demand, more than a question.

Kirsten furrowed her brow, trying to define her feelings before responding to Sandy.  "I don't know, exactly.  It's just…he wouldn't meet my eyes.  And he wouldn't talk to me."

"He's got to be exhausted Kirsten, physically and emotionally.  I'm sure it doesn't mean anything."

Seth agreed.  "Yeah.  If Ryan not talking was an ominous sign, the end of the world would have happened months ago."

"I hope so."  Kirsten wasn't convinced.

"Mrs. Cohen?  You can come back in now, but I'm afraid Ryan's sleeping again.  All my poking and prodding must have worn him out.  Try not to disturb him, okay?  He needs to rest."  The nurse smiled as she exited the room.

Quietly, the Cohen's entered.  The nurse had turned the lights low, so Ryan lay in shadow.  He was still propped up to lessen the pressure on his ribs and ease his breathing.  A nasal canula had replaced the oxygen mask, so more of his face was visible.  Bruising marred his left cheekbone and jaw line, brutal evidence of Dave Atwood's unfitness as a parent.  A clear plastic tube snaked out from under the thin blanket, stained dark with the fluid draining from Ryan's chest.  Various IV bags hung over his bed and a soft, steady beeping emanated from the heart monitor.

"You heard the nurse, Kirsten.  Ryan probably won't be waking up anytime soon.  Why don't you and Seth go get a room at the Hyatt and relax for a few hours.  I'll stay with Ryan."

Kirsten hesitated, torn between her desire to be with Ryan and a bone-numbing weariness.  She nodded, suddenly too tired to speak.

"Seth, maybe you better drive," Sandy said, tossing Seth the keys.  "I don't want to see either of you back here until after dinner."

Seth threw an anxious glance at Ryan before turning and following his mother down the hall.

Sandy settled into a chair next to Ryan's bed, shadows from the dimmed overhead lights increasing the severity of the lines of exhaustion creasing his face.  "What are we going to do with you, kiddo," he mused.  "You can't hide from us forever."

However, between his prescribed medications and his body's need for rest, Ryan managed to sleep through the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening.  Kirsten and Seth had managed a quick shopping trip before returning to the hospital, so the family was now prepared to remain in Chule Vista until Ryan was ready to travel.  After much protest, Seth and Sandy were convinced to return to their hotel for the night.  Due to Ryan's age, a parent was allowed to remain in his room after normal visiting hours.  Kirsten promised to call them immediately if anything about Ryan's condition changed.

Around midnight, Kirsten finally admitted that Ryan wasn't going to wake up anytime soon and unfolded the hospital issued chair into something resembling a bed.  "I think the mail truck I slept in in college was more comfortable than this," she grumbled to herself.  Soothed by the regular beeping sound coming from Ryan's heart monitor, Kirsten fell into a light sleep.

Disoriented, Kirsten's heart hammered in her chest.  Where was she?  Gasping, she sat straight up, a light polyester blanket clenched in her fists.  Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Kirsten's fractured mind began to fit the pieces of the last few days together.  Hospital.  Ryan.  Dave Atwood.  Damn.

The lights were abruptly too bright as a nurse bustled in and began fussing over Ryan.  The pace of the sounds coming from Ryan's heart monitor had changed, Kirsten realized.

"Is he waking up?" she asked, blinking rapidly and trying to form a coherent thought.

"I think so, dear."  The nurse smiled over at Kirsten.  Emily was glad the boy's mother had decided to stay with him.  During her years at Western Memorial, she'd seen too many children left alone in the dark, unfamiliar world of a hospital at night.  Just because the patient was a teenager didn't mean he wouldn't feel scared waking up alone.  "He probably won't be awake very long, though.  The doctors will keep him lightly sedated as long as his chest tube is still in."

Emily turned her attention to her patient.  "Hey," she said softly.  "Danielle told me about your beautiful blue eyes.  You gonna let me see them?"

Kirsten grinned.  Danielle had been Ryan's nurse earlier in the day.  If Ryan hadn't been so out of it, Kirsten was sure he would have blushed furiously at all the compliments from the nursing staff.  She couldn't suppress a soft groan as she lurched out of the contraption she'd been sleeping in.  Grimacing, she rolled her shoulders and cricked her neck before stepping next to Ryan's bed.

"Please wake up, Ryan," Kirsten pleaded.

Ryan's face contorted, as if suddenly realizing he was in pain.  He gasped and opened his eyes.  Panicked, Ryan's eyes snapped between Emily, Kirsten and the infernal, omnipresent, beeping machines.

"It's OK, Ryan."  Emily could sense the difficulty Kirsten was having, so she stepped into the void.  "You're in the hospital.  Do you remember?"

Ryan fixed his gaze on Emily, grateful for a non-threatening object to look at.  The blond woman beside his bed made him feel uneasy, though through the fog in his mind, he couldn't remember why.  And the IV's and other hospital paraphernalia made his skin crawl.  He was attached to them at points all over his body.  It was like he was part machine.  Ryan shuddered at the thought.

"Your heart's beating a little fast, kiddo.  Want to slow it down for me?  Take deep breaths.  That's right."  Emily continued to soothe the frightened teenager.

Kirsten swallowed harshly; the lump in her throat made it painful.  "Ryan?"  Damn, that was too tentative.  She needed to be strong for him.  "Ryan.  Please look at me."

Slowly, Ryan complied with her request.  Blue eyes dulled by pain and fear nevertheless locked onto Kirsten's like a laser beam.

"You're safe now, Ryan.  Do you understand?  You're safe, I'm safe, Sandy and Seth are safe.  Everybody's safe.  It's over."

Feeling that Ryan was in good hands, Emily slipped silently from the room.

Unwanted tears welled up in Ryan's eyes as he absorbed Kirsten's words.  It was over.  Was it really?  Was that even possible?  He remembered why seeing Kirsten made him uneasy.  He remembered his betrayal, now.  How could what he had done ever be truly 'over'?

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice raspy from disuse.  "So sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Kirsten said firmly.  "Nothing.  You didn't do anything wrong, Ryan."

"My father…"  Ryan couldn't finish the thought.  Just thinking about his father made his head hurt even worse.  He could feel blood throbbing through the bruises on his face.  He raised a shaking hand and pressed it against his damaged cheek.  He felt pain.  Pain, he understood.

Kirsten was determined to get through to Ryan before he fell asleep, or worse, shut her out again.  She couldn't bear the haunted look in his eyes.  "You are not responsible for him.  You did everything you could to keep us safe.  We **know** that.  Please, Ryan.  Believe me.  If anyone should be sorry, it's us.  And I am.  I never should have let him take you away from us, but I…we…didn't know what to do."  Kirsten started to cry.  The image of a broken Ryan being hauled away from her was something she would re-live in nightmares for the rest of her life.

"We didn't know what to do," she repeated, breaking her gaze away from Ryan and rubbing dispiritedly at the tears coursing down her face.  Kirsten didn't like to cry.  She didn't like to give up control to her emotions, but the last few days had left her defenses weakened.

Ryan was dismayed by Kirsten's tears.  He was so tired, but he couldn't go back to sleep if Kirsten was upset.  He had to make it better.  Ryan removed his hand from his cheek.  Controlled by gravity, it dropped lifelessly to the bed.  He strained to lift his hand and grasped onto Kirsten like a lifeline.  His voice was soft, but clear.  "Don't.  It's not your fault.  You shouldn't have to know how to deal with someone like him.  Please, Kirsten."

Kirsten gripped Ryan's hand with equal force.  "He'll never hurt you again, Ryan."

"They caught him?"

Ryan's question struck Kirsten like a blow.  How could she have been so stupid?  Telling Ryan that his father was dead didn't seem like a good idea, but how could she lie to him?

"You don't have to worry about him.  He's been…taken care of.  He won't bother you again."

Ryan narrowed his eyes.  He knew Kirsten was hiding something, but he was just too tired to try and figure out what.  The Cohens probably had pull with the DA's office and his dad was probably going back to prison for a long, long time.  "I'm sorry, Kirsten.  I don't know how I can make up for this."

"Stop it!  I mean it!"  Kirsten's voice was sharp.

Startled, Ryan tried to drop Kirsten's hand.  She held tightly to him.

"You're part of our family now, Ryan," Kirsten had to concentrate in order to soften her voice.  "What he did…it has nothing to do with you.  With who you are or how you fit into our family.  When I saw the brooch…"  

Once again tears tracked down her face.  "I can't describe what that meant to me.  That you would put yourself in danger to save my mother's brooch for me...You shouldn't have done it.  It's just a piece of jewelry.  Nothing that they took mattered…except for you, Ryan.  It mattered that they took you away from me."

Kirsten's tone ranged from sadness to anger to despair as she talked to Ryan.  Her emotions were all jumbled up.  She was touched that Ryan saved her mother's brooch.  She knew Ryan had tried to keep a piece of her mother's memory alive for her.  But she was also angry.  If Dave Atwood had seen Ryan hide the brooch, he would have been furious.  Why couldn't Ryan understand that he was worth more to her than a piece of jewelry?

"I love you, Ryan.  Sandy, Seth, and I…we all love you.  Do you believe me?"  Kirsten was desperate, now.  She couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was at a crossroads.  If he continued straight ahead, he would agree to stay with the Cohens, dutifully going to school and conversing politely with them over the dinner table, never truly part of the family.  If he turned left, he would reject them altogether, giving up on school and any offers they would make to help him.  Only by turning right would Ryan trust that they actually wanted him, needed him, loved him, and make the emotional commitment to return that love.

Her question hung in the air.

"I'm so…tired.  Tomorrow…we can…talk…tomorrow."  Ryan's eyes slid shut and his hand went limp.

Shattered, Kirsten rested her head on her arms and wept soundlessly, still gripping Ryan's unresponsive hand.

The next few days were difficult for everyone.  From a physical standpoint, Ryan improved considerably.  The chest tube was removed, his ribs were bound up, which improved his breathing, and the bruises, although more dramatic in color, were less swollen.  On the other hand, Ryan was unusually uncommunicative, even for Ryan.

Kirsten gave Sandy a brief overview of the conversation she'd had with Ryan, but they decided not to push him.  He'd been through the wringer and they wanted to give him a chance to assimilate all of his emotions before trying to get him to talk about them.

The day Ryan was to be released from the hospital, Sandy took on the task of informing him of his father's death.  His doctor felt that Ryan was stable enough to hear the news, and it was increasingly awkward to deal with Ryan's questions about what had happened to his father and the other two escaped convicts.

Ryan actually cried.  Sandy was surprised.  He was certain Ryan would continue to hide behind a mask of indifference.  He carefully sat on the bed next to Ryan and put his arms around his surrogate son.

"It's okay, Ryan.  It's all over now."  Sandy continued to murmur reassuring nonsense to Ryan until his tears stopped.  Ryan regained his composure too quickly for Sandy's comfort, but he was relieved that at least Ryan had let go of some of his iron clad emotional control.

Kirsten and Seth waited anxiously in the hall for Sandy's signal that it was okay to enter the room.

"Hey," Seth said awkwardly.

"Hey."  Ryan replied, not making eye contact.

"So…you ready to come home?  The doctor said he'd release you into our excellent care after this morning's rounds.  You just have to promise not to bike, or skateboard, or move around too much…or stuff."  Seth ran out of steam.

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Sandy teased, "Maybe Seth will let you win at _ProSkater3_ for once, seeing as how you're infirm."

"I don't need Seth to **let** me win anything!"  Ryan's instinctive flash of indignation turned quickly to shock.  God, he'd practically gotten them all killed and now he was jumping down Sandy's throat over nothing.  Worse, he was pissed off with Seth.  Ryan had beaten him plenty of times and Sandy's comment had touched a nerve.  To the Cohen's, Seth was always going to be the 'best', the 'brightest'.  Seth didn't need to brag to his parents about beating Ryan at a stupid game, especially when it wasn't even true!  "Breathe, Ryan, breathe." he silently encouraged himself, closing his eyes and forcing his body to calm down.  Damn emotions, popping up one right after another, with no chance to think.  He just needed a minute to figure out which emotion was _appropriate_, for God's sake!

Uncomfortable silence followed Ryan's short outburst.  Seth, naturally, tried to fill it.

"Dude!  _ProSkater3_ is old news!"

At Sandy's furrowed eyebrows, Seth continued.  "The student..ah…ah…somehow managed to overcome the master."  He gestured to himself.  "So, we've moved on to bigger and better things.  _Wars of the Ancient World_ is our new battle ground."

Seth burbled happily about curses and pharaohs and Sphinxes come to life, distracting his parents while Ryan settled back against his pillows.  He was just so tired.  If he could get a little more rest, he'd be able to figure out what he was supposed to feel.

Nodding in all the right places, Sandy was only half-listening to Seth.  He knew his son was doing his best to cut the tension and let Ryan compose himself.  He shot a quick glance at Ryan.  Pale skin made the bruises stand out in stark relief.  Sandy gnawed on the inside of his lower lip.  Was Ryan ready to come home?  A small hand squeezed his.  Looking down at Kirsten, Sandy was reassured by her warm smile.

"It's time to bring him home, Sandy," she whispered.  "It's time to take our lives back."

Ryan was released at noon and the family loaded up the car and carefully drove north.  Back to Orange County.  By the time the black Range Rover pulled into the Cohen's driveway, Seth was chattering as if the entire ordeal had never happened, and Ryan was, once again, asleep.

Epilogue:  

Dave Atwood's funeral was a quiet affair.  The only attendees were Dawn, Ryan, and the Cohens.  Trey Atwood had recently participated in a riot at Chino State Prison, so was not eligible for a furlough.  A local priest presided. The plot was in a shady spot, in a small cemetery just outside of Fresno.  Dave's parents were buried nearby.

Kirsten had helped him plan the service.  It was easier for Ryan to work one on one with Kirsten.  She was quiet and gave him enough time to think through things before making his decisions.  Caskets.  Flowers.  Readings.  There were so many decisions to make.  In a way, Ryan was glad.  It helped him focus, helped him clear the fog that had been clouding his mind, helped him get some of his equilibrium back.  Sandy and Seth had managed to rein in their constant desire to advise him on all matters, great and small, and Ryan was grateful.

He'd been relieved when Kirsten discovered Dave had purchased a plot in a cemetery back in his hometown.  He knew Dawn wouldn't have enough money to buy anything and Ryan was afraid Dave would be buried in a prison cemetery.  Surrounded by souls as black as his own, his father would surely end up in Hell.

Now, he would be near his family.  Maybe in death Dave could find the peace he rejected in life.   Ryan had only vague memories of his Atwood grandparents.  Grandpa was kind of stern, but he'd never hit Ryan, so that made him okay in Ryan's book.  His grandmother had made him cookies once.  Chocolate chip.  They were his favorite.  He might have received a scarf from her one Christmas, too, but he wasn't sure about that.  Hopefully, they were strong enough to deal with his father, help him earn redemption in the afterlife.

Ryan wasn't sure exactly what he believed.  Somehow, the concept of Hell was stronger than that of Heaven.  He'd been baptized a Catholic, but the Atwood's were never regular church-goers.  The few times they had gone, he looked around at all the presumably happy families and felt resentful.  He enjoyed the music, though.  The majestic organ and choir lifted his spirit almost to the roof of the church.  It somehow made coming down to earth after the mass all the more painful.  Still, he wanted a Catholic funeral mass said over his father.  Deep inside, hope in forgiveness and redemption still flickered.

Ryan had scraped together what was left of his Crab Shack earnings to buy a wreath.  It said simply, "Farewell."  For one short moment, he'd considered asking how much "Good Riddance" would cost, but managed to catch himself before he blurted it out.  The funeral director didn't look like he had much of a sense of humor.  Dawn had contributed a small bouquet as well.  It wasn't much, a plain casket topped by a wreath and some flowers, but it was respectable.

Ryan started when he heard everyone around him say, "Amen."  Awkwardly, Ryan made the sign of the cross.

It was over.

Standing some feet behind Dawn and Ryan, Seth leaned over to his mother.

"Thanks," Seth said quietly.

"For what?"  Kirsten was startled.

"For buying this plot for he-who-shall-not-be-named."  Seth snorted when his mother tried to deny it.  "I know you did it for Ryan and I know Ryan will never find out about it, so I just wanted to tell you, 'Thanks.'  You guys did a really good thing here.  Having his father buried in a prison cemetery or some kind of pauper's grave would've haunted Ryan until he was working three jobs at once in order to get enough money to move his dad's grave all the while maintaining an A average to make you and Dad happy."

Kirsten stared at Seth.  He had grown up so much during the past week.  He wasn't her little boy anymore.  She glanced sadly at Ryan.  She didn't think he'd ever truly been a little boy.  Kirsten turned back to Seth and gently ruffled his hair.

"I love you."

"Hey!  Stop that!  My hair was workin' for me today," Seth whispered indignantly.  He smiled.  "Love you too."

Ryan shook the priest's hand and thanked him.  As the priest walked away, Ryan turned to Kirsten and raised his eyebrows, nervously biting his lower lip.  He wasn't sure what happened next.

Dawn tugged at Ryan's sleeve.

"Ryan, are you going to drive me home?" she said plaintively.  "Come to dinner.  You can stay over, can't you?"

Ryan looked helplessly at Kirsten.

"Dawn, Ryan has to go to physical therapy tomorrow.  Plus, he's missed a lot of school and needs to get caught up with his homework."  Kirsten tried to layer in as much subtext as she could, hoping Dawn would understand.  "Don't you think it would be good for Ryan to get back to his normal routine?"

"It's just dinner," Dawn snapped, swaying slightly.  She had a drink or two before the service, just to calm her nerves.  After all, she was still married to the son of a bitch.  And she had loved him, once.  A little something to calm her nerves, that was OK.  It wasn't like she was drinking again.  "Can't my own son come have dinner?"

"Mom."

Dawn turned red-rimmed eyes to her son.  Ryan sighed.  Nobody did 'wounded' and 'pathetic' like Dawn Atwood.

"I can't do this right now."  Ryan swept his hand helplessly around the cemetery.  "Not here.  I'll call you later, okay?"

"Ry?  You'll call me later?"  Tears ran down Dawn's face.  Whether fake or genuine, Ryan was too tired to tell.

"I'll call you," he promised.

Kirsten led Dawn back to the Range Rover, planning on calling a taxi to take the woman back to Chino.  She nervously cast glances back over her shoulder.  As much as she wanted to drop Dawn on the spot and hurry back to Ryan, Kirsten knew he needed time alone.

"Please, Ryan," Kirsten thought.  "Give yourself a break, just this once."

Ryan remained at the gravesite, eyes trained resolutely on the newly turned earth.  What was he supposed to do now?  One by one, over the past few days, the Cohens had approached him.  Their tactics ranged from a weird, roundabout conversation about Kavalier and Clay (Seth), gentle encouragements to talk (Kirsten) and a direct request to discuss the robbery and how he 'felt' about the whole thing.  Two guesses who took that approach.  He'd successfully deflected each and every attempt.  A whispered, "I'm sorry" was usually enough to bring the conversation to a complete and utter halt.

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."  What crap.  He remembered that afternoon so vividly, even though he was probably only six or seven at the time.  It was summer.  A Saturday.  It was so unfair that it was raining.  He was trapped in the house with nothing to do.  Trey was over at a friend's and his dad was out with his buddies.  Wandering into the living room, ready to whine to his mom about how bored he was, Ryan was stunned to hear her crying.  Dawn was lying on the old brown couch, eyes glued to the flickering blue light of the TV.  Still quietly sniffling, Dawn smiled at Ryan and held out her hand.  Ryan clambered up on the couch, curling into his mother's side.

"What're you watching?"

"It's called _Love Story_.  It's my favorite movie."  Dawn absentmindedly ran her hand through Ryan's sandy hair, curling a fine strand around her finger.

"How come?  It makes you cry."

"I know.  It's just a mushy chick flick."  Dawn looked fondly down at her small son.  "Nothing that the men in this family would approve of."

"What's it about?"

"Two people fall in love.  His family is rich and she's poor, so his father cuts him off from the family, leaves him with nothing.  But he doesn't care, because they're in love."

"That sounds dumb."

Dawn laughed.  "I know.  Anyway, Oliver, that's the man, he and Jenny get married and they make a new life together.  But, Jenny gets sick and Oliver has to get money from his father for her hospital bills."

"That's him?  That's Oliver?"  Ryan pointed to a sandy-haired young man on the TV, sitting pensively by the bedside of a beautiful young woman.

"It's where I got your name, you know.  Ryan.  After Ryan O'Neal, the actor who's playing Oliver."  Dawn was once again mesmerized by the images on the screen.  "He's so handsome.  And he loves her so much."

Together, mother and son watched Ryan O'Neal climb carefully into the hospital bed and hold Ali McGraw as she died a beautiful movie death, all soft lights and mournful music.  Dawn's tears flowed freely and she hugged her son.  "I love you, baby."

In spite of the rain, and Dawn's tears, Ryan remembered feeling safe, and warm, and happy that afternoon, so many years ago.

Ryan snorted.  At least his mom hadn't named him 'Oliver.'  Man, wouldn't that have been a kick in the head.  And that scene at the end of the movie between Oliver and his dad?  Where Oliver forgives his father?  He had bought it at the time, but now he wasn't so sure.  Wasn't it the dad's fault?  Not that Jenny died, but that he kicked his own son out of the family?  Oliver didn't even make him apologize; he just repeated that stupid line about love means never having to say you're sorry.  But that wasn't true.  Ryan spent his whole life telling people he loved that he was sorry.  And wishing they would tell him.  He didn't hear it very often.  Dawn would tell him she was sorry, sometimes.  After a bender.  But not always, even then.  And even when she said it, he knew she didn't really mean it.

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way.  Maybe they meant that _saying_ you're sorry didn't matter.  Maybe, if you loved someone, they _knew_ when you were sorry, sorry enough that you would try your hardest never to disappoint them again.  Ryan snorted in derision.  "So, now that you've figured out the deep philosophy of _Love Story_, where does that leave you?" he whispered to himself.

Could he forgive his father?  Was his father worthy of forgiveness?  Well, his dad hadn't **said** he was sorry, so **that** was in his favor.  Ryan smirked.  Trying to think through the whole thing rationally wasn't working.  Dave Atwood had terrorized people that Ryan cared for, had stolen from them, and had beaten him, and didn't seem to experience any qualms whatsoever about any of it.  So, his actions were unforgivable.  But the man himself.  Could he be forgiven?  Ryan didn't care too much about the beating.  His father had let him go, in the end.  And he hadn't harmed the Cohens.  So maybe….No, he didn't think he was ready to forgive his father.  Maybe God could.

So, what about him?  Was he worthy?  He hadn't actually done anything wrong, had he?  The Cohens kept telling him that he hadn't done anything wrong.  Sandy had made the decision to bring him to his home, he didn't even really have responsibility for that.  He hadn't told his father where the Cohens lived, or how much money they had.  That was Dawn.  So why did he feel compelled to say "I'm sorry" over and over again?  Kirsten had said, in the hospital, that they all loved him.  Did he love them back?  Enough to let go of all the "I'm sorry's"?

As they waited for Ryan, Sandy shifted his feet nervously.  He glanced at Seth, who was standing quietly at his side.

"Seth?"

"Hmm?"  Seth replied, his gaze never leaving Ryan's bowed head.

"I want to talk to you about something Dave Atwood said…" Sandy's voice trailed off.  He was uncomfortable, but determined to discuss it before Ryan rejoined them and the opportunity was lost.

"You mean that garbage about him not being Ryan's father?"

"Yeah."  Sandy was surprised Seth was going to make this easy for him.  He expected Seth to be as uncomfortable about this as he was.

"Don't worry, Dad.  I don't plan on ever saying anything about that to Ryan.  It was crapola anyway.  He was just trying to get you riled up."  Seth grinned at his father.  "It worked, too.  You were spittin' nails!"

Sandy just stared at Seth, dumbfounded.

"Really, Dad.  Don't worry about it.  Dave Atwood was a liar."  Seth's expression darkened.  "I mean, remember him accusing Ryan of…of…you know, for you to want to bring him home?  Like you would use your authority to make someone…or that Ryan would ever…." Seth sputtered.  His arms started to move of their own free will.  Their wide, windmilling action caused Sandy to step back.

"God.  I'd kind of hoped you'd forgotten about that.  Ryan too."

"I can't forget it, and I can't forgive it either.  I know Ryan is trying to forgive his father, but I'm not going to.  Not ever.  I'm waitin' for Judgment Day, when God goes all Old Testament on his ass!"

Sandy couldn't help himself.  Laughter was entirely inappropriate under the circumstances, but it was unavoidable.  After seven days of unrelenting tension, his emotional control was nonexistent.  Seth was surprised by his father's reaction, but it was infectious and his peals of laughter soon joined Sandy's.

Ryan's head snapped up at the unexpected sound.  He looked up at Sandy and Seth, both doubled over and red-faced from laughing.  He cocked his head, slightly narrowing his eyes as he observed them.  Parent and child.  Loving and respecting each other.  Actually enjoying each other's company.  Maybe Kirsten was right.  Slowly, Ryan smiled.  Laughter.  It wasn't enough to completely erase the memories of the past few days.  But it was a start.

Ryan climbed the hill, ready to rejoin his family.

THE END


End file.
